If I, a death row inmate, am not to become a demon, am I to become a member of the Imperial Guard?

The wind swirled at the foot of the city wall, swirling up a few withered yellow leaves. Zhou Yang didn't rush to leave; he stood on the high platform for a while, his gaze fixed on the overlapping rooftops deep within the imperial city.

Although the matter of the Heavenly Principle Sect has been resolved, someone still needs to clean up the mess.

The Qin family suffered heavy losses in this turmoil; most of their mansion was destroyed, and the rest was reduced to ruins. For someone who believed in equivalent exchange, such losses had to be remedied as soon as possible. Moreover, this remedy was not only for housing, but also to find a suitable place for the Dragon Pattern Sword to "recover."

"Let's go, we need to get the money back." Zhou Yang patted the hilt of his sword at his waist, his tone as casual as if he were discussing what to eat today.

Qin Shuang chuckled softly beside him, said nothing, and turned to walk towards the inner city.

Their footsteps echoed on the empty cobblestone street. Upon entering the inner city, the atmosphere changed. A heavy, deliberately created solemnity filled the air. Several imperial guards stood watch at the street corner; upon seeing Qin Shuang, they immediately straightened their backs and bowed in salute.

At this time, Qin Shuang's identity was that of a nail guarding the city. In the eyes of the imperial court, she was a meritorious official who could stabilize the situation.

On the way back to his residence, Zhou Yang kept making plans.

Simple reconstruction won't do. The Qin family mansion needs to be transformed into a massive energy node. The Dragon Spine Artifact is currently like a leaky sack, requiring extremely high-purity Geng gold ore and deep-sea driftwood to seal it, as well as a special array to guide spiritual energy. The Qin family's resources alone are simply insufficient to gather all of these things; the imperial court will have to provide the funding.

Upon arriving at the former site of the Qin Mansion, a scene of utter devastation unfolded before us. Amidst the broken walls and ruins, there were still charred marks that had not been cleaned up.

Qin Shuang stood in front of the ruins, her brows slightly furrowed.

"I can handle the funding application," Qin Shuang said, turning to Zhou Yang. "But the imperial court is used to cutting a portion of the budget after a great achievement; they'll have to test our limits."

"Testing them is their habit, while my habit is to make them feel that if they don't give me money, they're the ones who will suffer the loss." Zhou Yang squatted down, picked up a broken brick, and casually threw it into the pit next to him.

Three days later, an imperial envoy dressed in purple official robes arrived at the Qin residence.

The envoy, surnamed Wang, was a typical civil official. He spoke slowly and deliberately, but his eyes held a shrewd glint. He sat in a makeshift pavilion, holding a memorial in his hand—the preliminary funding plan from the imperial court.

"Commander Qin, for this reconstruction, the cabinet has allocated a special fund of 30,000 taels of silver and 200 dan of high-quality timber, taking into account the current state of the national treasury." Envoy Wang gently pushed the folded document in front of Qin Shuang, a gentle smile on his face. "This is already an exception."

Qin Shuang glanced at it, her eyes turning cold.

Thirty thousand taels.

Rebuilding a defensive and strategically important mansion would cost at most a few decent roof beams. Not to mention the top-tier building materials Zhou Yang requested.

Zhou Yang was sitting on a stone bench to the side, holding a green apple and slowly taking a bite. He wasn't looking at the folding book or the envoy, but staring at his fingernails.

"Thirty thousand taels?" Zhou Yang suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but it sounded particularly jarring in the quiet pavilion.

The royal envoy looked at him, his smile unchanged, but his tone became slightly more somber: "Mr. Zhou, this is already more than enough in terms of etiquette. Rebuilding a mansion does not require such extravagance."

Zhou Yang threw the apple core on the ground, stood up, and walked to the envoy.

He didn't make any threatening moves; he simply touched the stone table lightly with the scabbard of the dragon-patterned sword as he approached.

It was an extremely faint metallic clang, but to the envoy, it sounded like a thunderclap exploding in his mind. An invisible pressure instantly enveloped the entire pavilion, and the envoy felt his breathing become heavy, as if all the air around him had been sucked away.

"Lord Wang, you may have misunderstood." Zhou Yang looked down at him, his eyes showing no anger, only a pure sense of transaction. "Rebuilding the Qin Mansion is not for people to live in, but to recharge the Dragon Spine Artifact."

The king's envoy's expression stiffened for a moment.

The phrase "Dragon Spine Artifact" is a taboo among the high-ranking officials of the imperial court and a source of greed.

"Charging?" The royal envoy barely managed to maintain his composure, trying to salvage the situation. "How many resources does this thing require?"

"We need cold iron from the far north, sunken wood from the depths of the South China Sea, and each building material must be tempered by a specific magic array." Zhou Yang held up three fingers. "Thirty thousand taels is too little. Let me think, it should probably be increased to ninety thousand taels, and the specifications of the building materials need to be raised by three levels."

three times.

The king's envoy's eyes widened suddenly, and his body involuntarily leaned back.

"This is against the rules! The cabinet will never approve such a huge allocation."

Zhou Yang smiled and tapped lightly on the table.

With each tap, the oppressive feeling intensified. The royal envoy felt his heart pounding violently, as if a dull knife was slowly cutting into his will.

"Rules are made for the weak." Zhou Yang's voice became very soft, almost like a whisper. "If the Dragon Spine Artifact is not fully charged, and it fluctuates under some accident, the foundation around this imperial city may become unstable. At that time, it won't be a matter of lacking tens of thousands of taels of silver, but rather the entire inner city will have to be replanned."

This is a blatant threat.

But the most ingenious aspect of this threat is that it is based on an "objective fact." The imperial court knew Zhou Yang's abilities, and it also knew the instability of the Dragon Spine Artifact.

The royal envoy broke out in a cold sweat, soaking the back of his collar. He looked at Qin Shuang, trying to find support.

Qin Shuang was looking down at her fingernails, appearing completely indifferent. She knew Zhou Yang all too well; the best strategy at this moment was to remain silent and let him break down in fear.

"Mr. Zhou, please give the cabinet some time to consider this." Envoy Wang's voice began to tremble.

"Time is precious." Zhou Yang released the pressure, sat back down on the stone bench, and his tone returned to its initial lightness. "I want to see the materials arrive before next month. If it drags on, I'm worried that the condition of the Dragon Spine Artifact will become 'uncontrollable'."

Uncontrollable.

These three words became the last straw that broke the camel's back.

The royal envoy did not argue further. He quickly put away his folded book, got up, and left. As he walked, his steps were somewhat unsteady, and he even tripped on the threshold.

Watching the envoy's retreating figure, Zhou Yang let out a long sigh of relief and slumped into his chair.

"You went too far this time." Qin Shuang walked over and sat down next to him. Although her tone was reproachful, there was a smile on her lips.

"Excessive? I'm helping the imperial court avoid risks." Zhou Yang blinked. "Besides, after deducting the cost of materials, the remaining 90,000 taels of silver will leave us with a considerable amount of 'operational funds'."

Qin Shuang rolled her eyes at him and reached out to straighten his slightly disheveled collar.

"Your true nature as a 'money-grubbing layman' is truly ingrained in your bones."

"In this world, money is the only universal language," Zhou Yang muttered to himself, his gaze returning to the ruins.

He had already sketched out the image of his new mansion in his mind. It wouldn't be a simple mansion, but a massive alchemical furnace, a fortress capable of efficiently converting lifespan, resources, and power.

He needed an absolutely safe place so that he could focus wholeheartedly on practicing the martial arts in the days to come.

For the next two weeks, the former site of the Qin Mansion became the busiest construction site in the entire capital.

The imperial court's allocation of funds was astonishingly fast. Not only did the 90,000 taels of silver arrive in installments, but those extremely rare materials were also collected in a very short time. Clearly, after weighing the options, the cabinet believed that buying peace with money was the most worthwhile deal at present.

Countless craftsmen were forcibly conscripted, and under Zhou Yang's command, they did not follow traditional architectural logic in their construction.

The foundation was dug ten zhang deep, with each layer covered with a special mortar containing metal fragments. At the four corners of the mansion, Zhou Yang ordered the erection of four massive basalt pillars, their surfaces covered with densely packed runes.

To ordinary people, these runes look like strange decorations, but in Zhou Yang's eyes, they are tentacles capable of capturing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.

"Zhou Yang, if you build it like this, will this place really feel like a home?" Qin Shuang asked with some doubt, looking at the cold stone pillars and the complex formations.

Zhou Yang walked beside her, holding a huge design drawing in his hand.

"A home is for living in, but this is for surviving." He paused, then pointed to the center. "However, I will arrange your bedroom in the most central area, where it is the warmest and safest."

Qin Shuang gave a soft hum, but the dependence in her eyes deepened considerably.

During construction, Zhou Yang frequently ventured deep into the foundation. He began to connect a portion of the Dragon Pattern Sword's energy with the array within the foundation. Whenever he invested life points into the array's deduction, the surrounding air would exhibit a visible distortion.

The feeling was strange, as if the entire Qin mansion had been transformed into a giant respiratory organ.

One late night, after a crucial formation loop was completed, Zhou Yang stood on the highest beam, overlooking the gradually taking shape fortress.

The moonlight shone on the black stone, giving it a cold, eerie glow.

He felt his lifespan slowly fading, but in contrast, the vibrations of the Dragon Pattern Sword became increasingly steady. The restless, unstable feeling was disappearing, replaced by a deep, tranquil stillness, like an ancient pool.

"If things continue like this, even if the Heavenly Principles Sect has a way to come back to life, it won't be able to make a fuss in this courtyard," Zhou Yang muttered to himself.

He habitually touched the silver notes in his pocket, the tangible feel of them bringing him peace of mind.

For him, the highest level of security is not powerful martial arts skills or a prominent position, but ample resources, strong fortifications, and a bargaining chip that can be used for transactions at any time.

At that moment, Qin Shuang below called his name, and her voice carried far in the night wind.

Zhou Yang jumped off the roof beam, his movements as light as a cat's.

He walked toward the person who truly felt warmth for him, and the moment he touched the other's palm, he realized that in this transaction called "survival," he seemed to have inadvertently gained something that could not be measured in money.

But he quickly dismissed the idea.

Being too emotional doesn't fit his survival logic.

"Let's go back and calculate how many top-grade spirit stones we can buy with the money we have left this time," he said with a smile.

Chapter 662 The Name of the Evil God

The wind was rather strong in the outskirts of Dongdu.

The withered yellow grass rustled as it was blown along the ground. Zhou Yang stood on a small earthen slope, squinting as he surveyed his surroundings. Backed by a solitary mountain and facing a winding river, the open terrain truly made it a rare and auspicious place.

Qin Shuang stood beside him, holding a yellowed map in her hand, and pointed to a certain spot with her fingertip.

"This is it," she said, her voice devoid of much emotion. "The Qin family plans to build their new sword-making workshop here."

Zhou Yang didn't reply, but simply reached out and grabbed at the air. The air was filled with the smell of earth and a faint rusty odor drifting from afar. For cultivators, this place was devoid of spiritual energy and hardly a blessed land, but for the sword-making business in the mortal realm, this location was excellent—convenient for transporting materials, and neither too far nor too close to the bustling city.

"Has the land been bought?" Zhou Yang asked.

"Not yet." Qin Shuang put away the map, her brows furrowing slightly. "Although this land is currently undeveloped, it belongs to the Zhao family in the south of the city. The Zhao family is an old household in Dongdu, and they've made their fortune in recent years by reselling land. They have a huge appetite, asking for three times the market price, and they're being very forceful, saying that if we don't buy it, the Qin family's goods will have to pay an extra 20% 'security fee' at the south dock in the future."

Zhou Yang chuckled.

"20% security fee? Why don't they just rob us?"

"It's essentially robbery." Qin Shuang turned to look at him. "Originally, I thought it was fine to spend more money as long as we could build the sword workshop as soon as possible. But the Zhao family seems to think that the Qin family is easy to bully. Yesterday, they sent someone to tell us that they don't plan to sell this land because someone else has taken a fancy to it and wants to keep it to build a villa."

Zhou Yang touched his chin.

"Someone's taken a liking to you? Who?"

"They didn't say, they only said it was a big shot from the capital."

Zhou Yang nodded and didn't press further. He'd heard this reason many times before; it was mostly the Zhao family trying to hold out for a higher price, or trying to manipulate the Qin family. In this world, reputation is sometimes more valuable than money, especially for so-called "old hands"—face is more important than anything else.

"So what do we do now?" Zhou Yang asked, his tone as relaxed as if he were asking what to have for dinner.

Qin Shuang glanced at him, as if to confirm whether he was joking.

"You mean, what should we do?"

"Yes, without the land, the sword workshop can't start construction. If it can't start construction, it won't make any money. If it doesn't make any money, I won't get any dividends." Zhou Yang spread his hands. "This is my lifeblood."

Qin Shuang couldn't help but smile slightly, but she quickly straightened her face.

"I've already sent for the Zhao family's steward to see what they really mean. If we really can't reach an agreement..."

She paused, her hand resting on the hilt of the embroidered spring knife at her waist.

Zhou Yang waved his hand.

"Using knives and guns only damages relationships. For such a trivial matter, it's too much trouble for Commander Qin to handle personally. If word gets out, people will think I, Zhou Yang, am a gigolo."

As they were talking, a cloud of dust rose in the distance.

Two carriages came speeding by, their wheels screeching and creaking over the gravel. Behind them followed dozens of men dressed in tight-fitting clothes, each carrying a stick; they were clearly not there to reason with anyone.

The carriage stopped at the foot of the earthen slope.

A middle-aged, overweight man dressed in brocade robes jumped off the first vehicle, twirling two iron balls in his hand. His fleshy face trembled with each step. He looked up at Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang standing on the slope, his eyes filled with contempt.

"Which one of you is the head of the Qin family?" the fat man shouted at the top of his lungs. "This isn't a place you can just barge into! This is the territory that Master Zhao has his eye on. If you know what's good for you, get lost and don't delay the auspicious time for our distinguished guest!"

Just as Qin Shuang was about to speak, Zhou Yang stepped forward and blocked her way.

He looked the fat man up and down.

"You're the steward of the Zhao family?"

The fat man was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting that there was such a young man standing next to Qin Shuang, and that he didn't seem to have much cultivation, with an ordinary aura.

"I am Zhao San, the head steward of the Zhao family." The fat man puffed out his chest. "What? Kid, are you a bodyguard hired by the Qin family? Quickly call your manager out here. Don't think you can intimidate people just because you have a few lackeys. In the outskirts of Dongdu, the Zhao family's word is law!"

Zhou Yang nodded.

"Alright, Zhao San. I'm asking you, is the Zhao family selling this land?"

Zhao San burst into laughter as if he had heard a joke, and the thugs behind him joined in the laughter.

"Sell? Didn't we just say no? We're keeping this land to build villas for the wealthy people from the capital..."

"I'm not selling," Zhou Yang interrupted him, his tone indifferent. "Then there's nothing I can do."

He sighed, turned to Qin Shuang and said, "It seems we can't reach an agreement, so I'll have to use my method."

Qin Shuang didn't speak, but just looked at him quietly. She knew Zhou Yang's methods. Ever since that "major incident," Zhou Yang's aura had become very strange. He usually seemed harmless, but once he got serious, even she felt a chill.

Zhao San was furious when he saw that Zhou Yang was ignoring him.

"Damn it, they're asking for it! Brothers, get these two idiots out of here! Daring to cause trouble on Boss Zhao's turf, let them know how many eyes Boss Zhao has today!"

Dozens of thugs yelled and charged forward, brandishing clubs.

Zhou Yang stood still, without moving an inch.

He didn't even take his hands out of his sleeves.

Just as the thugs were a dozen steps away from the earthen mound, Zhou Yang merely raised his eyelids slightly. An invisible wave of energy instantly spread out from him.

There was no strong wind or flying sand and stones.

But the thugs at the forefront suddenly felt as if they had crashed into a thick wall. The feeling wasn't physical pain, but a tremor that came from the depths of their souls. The clubs in their hands clattered to the ground, and their legs felt like lead, unable to take another step.

Immediately afterwards, an extreme cold enveloped the entire slope.

Zhao San's sinister smile froze. He looked at the young man standing on the slope and suddenly felt that the other man had become incredibly tall, while he himself was as insignificant as an ant. That feeling was like seeing a skinned dead rabbit for the first time when he was a child, or like walking alone through a mass grave in the middle of the night with someone blowing cold air on his back.

He tried to shout, but his throat felt like it was blocked by something, and he couldn't make a sound.

Zhou Yang slowly raised his right foot.

The step was very light, making no sound.

But to Zhao San and his thugs, that kick felt like it had landed on their hearts.

thump.

The earth trembled slightly.

The soil where Zhou Yang landed didn't sink; instead, it quickly turned grayish-black, as if its life force had been drained in an instant. Then, a strange pattern emerged from beneath his feet.

The patterns were twisted and obscure, carrying an indescribable malevolence, like an open eye or a gaping wound.

This is the "Mark of the Evil God".

It wasn't some profound formation; it was simply a trace that Zhou Yang had forcibly left in the real world with his earth-shattering power. It needed no explanation, no words; a single glance was enough to understand the destructive intent it contained.

Zhao San's legs went weak, and he knelt down uncontrollably.

"thump."

The crisp sound was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent wilderness.

The thugs behind him fell to their knees one after another, like dominoes. No one dared to look up, and they even breathed cautiously, afraid that if they made a sound, they would attract the attention of the man standing on the slope.

Zhou Yang pulled his foot back and patted the dust off the edge of his shoe.

"Now, whose land is this?" he asked.

Zhao San trembled all over, cold sweat instantly soaking his brocade robe. He didn't know who the young man was, but he knew that just a moment ago, he had truly felt the breath of death. That fear was ten thousand times more terrifying than that of the most ruthless assassin he had ever seen.

"It's...it's yours..." Zhao San stammered, his voice trembling with tears, "This land...this land is yours..."

"I want the Qin family's," Zhou Yang corrected.

"It belongs to the Qin family! It belongs to the Qin family!" Zhao San kowtowed desperately, his forehead hitting the hard clod of earth, drawing blood. "I was blind and offended you, sir! Please spare my life! We, the Zhao family, don't want this land anymore. Send the land deed over immediately, right now!"

Zhou Yang glanced at him, his eyes showing no emotion.

"The land deed will be delivered to the Qin residence tomorrow. Also, the security fee for the South City Wharf will be waived from now on."

"Yes! Yes! No problem! From now on, the Zhao family will escort the Qin family's goods for free, free of charge!" Zhao San just wanted to get out of this godforsaken place as soon as possible.

"Get lost."

Zhou Yang waved his hand, as if shooing away a swarm of flies.

Zhao San felt as if he had been granted a pardon and scrambled towards the carriages. The thugs followed suit, not even daring to pick up the sticks that had fallen to the ground. When the two carriages turned around, the drivers' hands trembled so much that they almost dropped the reins, the whips lashed the horses' rumps, and the carriages sped away like madmen into the distance.

As the dust settled, the wilderness returned to silence.

Qin Shuang stood to the side, looking at the black mark slowly fading at Zhou Yang's feet, her eyes filled with complex emotions.

"What did you just use?" she asked.

Zhou Yang shrugged.

"A little trick. Enough to scare this bumpkin."

He turned around, looked at the desolate land, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"This is a good location. Once the sword workshop is built, business will definitely boom. By the way, Zhao San mentioned free escort services earlier. That must save the Qin family a lot of money every year, right?"

Qin Shuang nodded.

"We can probably save about 30,000 taels."

"Thirty thousand taels..." Zhou Yang calculated for a moment, "According to our profit-sharing ratio, I can get several thousand taels. This trip was worthwhile, much more profitable than fighting."

He started walking back.

"Let's go back and eat. I'm starving after all this commotion this morning."

Qin Shuang watched his retreating figure. He was still thin, still exuding a shrewdness that came with his street smarts. But the pressure he had just unleashed was like a mountain, making it hard to breathe.

This is Zhou Yang.

A man who always talks about "adding money," yet can decide a person's life or death with a mere gesture.

Qin Shuang quickly followed.

"etc."

"What? You regret it? Want to back out of that 30,000 taels of free food?" Zhou Yang asked without turning his head.

"No." Qin Shuang walked to his side and walked alongside him. "I wanted to ask, if someone tries to harm the Qin family in the future, can they use that mark to scare them?"

Zhou Yang stopped and turned to look at her.

Sunlight shone on his face, and his eyes gleamed with an unfathomable light.

"That will cost extra," he said.

Qin Shuang was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Okay, I'll pay more."

The two walked side by side on a desolate path, the wind ruffling their clothes. In the distance, the city walls of the Eastern Capital were faintly visible, a place of prosperity, scheming, and also where their place lay.

On the earthen slope behind them, the mark, though vanished, still retained a terrifying aura, serving as a silent warning, quietly watching over this land that was about to belong to the Qin family.

The name of the evil god spread like wildfire.

The next day, the Zhao family's land deed was delivered to the Qin residence, not only stamped with the official seal but also accompanied by a generous gift. Zhao San personally delivered it, his attitude as respectful as if he were paying homage to an ancestor, not daring to even raise his head.

The local bullies at the South City Wharf, having heard that the Zhao family had suffered a setback, became much more docile. Upon seeing the Qin family's goods, they not only dared not cause trouble, but also took the initiative to help carry them.

A rumor began to circulate among the underground forces in Dongdu.

Behind the Qin family stands an "evil god" that cannot be provoked.

No one knows who this evil god is or what he looks like; all that is known is that if he stomps his foot, the entire East will tremble.

Zhou Yang knew nothing about these rumors, or rather, he didn't care at all. He was sitting in a side hall of the Qin residence, rapidly calculating accounts with an abacus.

"This account doesn't make sense," Zhou Yang said, pointing to a line in the ledger. "Why is the purchase price of spirit stones 20% higher than last month? Is someone taking kickbacks?"

The steward in charge of the accounts wiped his sweat and explained nervously, "Mr. Zhou, spirit stones are in short supply recently, and the price has indeed gone up..."

"The price has gone up?" Zhou Yang slammed the abacus on the table. "Then I'll go talk to the supplier. If we can't reach an agreement, I'll go stomp my feet at their doorstep."

The manager was completely confused, not knowing what use Mr. Zhou's stomping was, but seeing Qin Shuang's ambiguous smile, he didn't dare to ask any more questions and could only nod in agreement.

Zhou Yang picked up his teacup and took a sip, calculating in his mind how much money he could make once this batch of swords was sold. As for the title of "Evil God," in his view, it was just another tool to make money.

As long as I can pay more, I don't care what it's called.

After all, living, and living well, is the only real thing.

Three thousand elite soldiers

Dusk spread outside the city walls. Qin Shuang stood at the entrance to the barracks, her eyes flashing with a cold light. Her voice cut through the wind: "Three thousand men, enter the camp today, draw your swords tomorrow."

The old guard looked up, his eyebrows slightly raised, a hint of doubt in his eyes, but he dared not hesitate.

Zhou Yang stood against the side wall of the tent, holding a dark red rune stone in his hand. The stone surface trembled slightly, as if absorbing the warmth of his breath.

"Screen," he whispered to Qin Shuang.

Qin Shuang nodded. She didn't need an explanation; she just needed to see the results.

As a drumbeat sounded, three thousand remaining soldiers gradually entered the camp. Most of them were dressed in tattered clothes and their swords were rusted, yet they still maintained their standing posture.

Zhou Yang placed the rune stone on the ground, and the stone immediately emitted a dim halo. The halo spread outwards, like a tide slowly covering everyone's ankles.

He closed his eyes and lightly tapped the life counter on his chest with his finger. The counter's needle dipped slightly, and a blood-red light flashed across it.

"Burn," he thought to himself.

A faint blue light shot out from the runestone, passing through the chest of each soldier and piercing in like a needle.

Of the three thousand people, only five hundred had faint spots of light appear on their chests, after which the halo of light from the stone gathered around them, forming a faint aura.

The light spots on the chests of the others went out instantly, and their breathing became rapid.

Zhou Yang looked up, his eyes showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Stay. Write down the surnames, ages, and appearances of these five hundred people." Qin Shuang's voice was devoid of any emotion.

An officer stepped forward and quickly took notes. The pen tip made a crisp sound as it glided across the paper.

The remaining 2,500 people were led into another temporary camp. Zhou Yang didn't say much and walked directly towards them.

He stood before rows of corpses lying on the ground, his gaze sweeping over each blood-stained face.

"One dollar for a life," he muttered to himself, but he didn't actually offer a price.

He gently stroked the neck of a dead man, his fingertips feeling the coolness. Then he lightly pressed the runestone against his chest.

The runestone flashed again, but this time the light did not spread outwards; instead, it converged inwards.

Zhou Yang's lifespan counter jumped instantly, and the red number dropped slightly.

The light flowed rapidly through the body of the deceased, as if igniting a latent spark.

Seconds later, the deceased’s eyes suddenly opened, and a fierce light shone from his bloodshot eye sockets.

"Stand still," Zhou Yang commanded in a low voice.

The deceased's body seemed to be infused with new blood, and he immediately stood up straight, the broken knife in his hand now glowing with a dark red light.

Among the five hundred people, some looked at Zhou Yang in fear, while others had resolute eyes, as if they had already accepted their new life.

Qin Shuang walked to Zhou Yang's side and gently patted his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Okay." Her tone was still cold, but it carried a hint of approval.

Zhou Yang responded with a faint smile, without saying anything more.

He then divided all 500 new students into three teams. Each team consisted of about 165 people, led by three experienced veterans.

The veterans checked everyone's weapons, making sure the blades were sharp and the bowstrings were taut.

Zhou Yang walked up to each person and briefly explained their tasks.

"Defend the city, defend the grain, defend me." His words were devoid of emotion, yet they made everyone's heart race.

As night deepened, lights gradually illuminated the camp. The light reflected off everyone's armor, giving it a cold gleam.

Qin Shuang stood on the high platform, gazing at the distant mountains. Her brows were slightly furrowed, as if she were calculating her next move in a game of chess.

Zhou Yang walked behind her and handed her the list of soldiers that had already been written.

"The list," he said softly.

Qin Shuang took the list, a hint of approval flashing in her eyes. She put the list into her sleeve and turned to walk towards the tent.

Inside the tent, Zhou Yang tucked the rune stone into his sleeve, and the stone's surface stopped glowing.

He leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed slightly. The number indicating his lifespan pulsed faintly in his chest, a reminder of the price he had just paid.

But he did not regret it.

"We'll set off tomorrow," he whispered to the veteran beside him.

The veteran nodded, gripped the knife handle, and lightly touched the ground with the tip of the blade, producing a crisp metallic sound.

The night wind stirred up dust and lifted the curtain in the corner of the tent.

The blood of three thousand martyrs has begun to flow again on this land.

The remaining 2,500 people were incorporated into the logistics department, responsible for transporting food and medicine.

Zhou Yang stood at the camp gate, his gaze fixed on the distant city wall. Lights twinkled on the wall, as if awaiting a new war.

Qin Shuang's figure was elongated in the lamplight, like a sharp blade.

"We already have the core." Zhou Yang's voice was deep, yet full of confidence.

Qin Shuang chuckled, her voice like the clash of cold steel: "The cores are few, yet enough to shake the entire situation."

Zhou Yang raised his hand and gently touched the life counter on his chest. The numbers were still slowly decreasing, but were far from bottoming out.

He stretched his hand into the distance, his fingertips as if trying to grasp the undercurrents in the air.

At that moment, a deep bugle call came from the distant valley, as if enemy troops were gathering in the distance.

Zhou Yang did not turn around and remained standing in the same spot.

The lamplight illuminated his face, revealing a faint bloodstain.

He muttered to himself, "More money, more life, more power."

Qin Shuang stood behind him, the two side by side, their backs to the night.

The candlelight inside the tent flickered slightly, illuminating the scrolls.

The scroll records the names and potential ratings of three thousand assassins.

Zhou Yang handed the scroll to Qin Shuang.

"Settle these five hundred people in first," he ordered.

Qin Shuang nodded and turned to walk deeper into the camp.

The stars in the night sky were sparse, but they did not obscure the cold light.

Zhou Yang stood still, the counter on his chest flashing slightly.

He took a deep breath of the cold air and felt the blood flowing through his body.

This time, he only burned a small portion of his lifespan, but in exchange, he gained the five hundred most core members.

He secretly thought: If he could burn it again, perhaps more people could unleash their potential.

But he understood that lifespan was not an endless resource.

He reached his hand to his chest and gently stroked the memory symbol.

"Next step," he said in a low voice.

A gust of wind swept through the camp, blowing up a few pages of paper. The pages turned in the lamplight, as if foreshadowing a new chapter.

Qin Shuang's figure gradually faded from the light, leaving only the sound of hard armor.

Zhou Yang withdrew his gaze and continued to observe in the darkness.

The bloodline of the three thousand elite warriors has been reignited, and the power of the five hundred core warriors is slowly gathering.

His plan has already begun.

In the stillness of the night, only the distant sound of horns and the occasional clash of swords within the camp could be heard.

Zhou Yang stood calmly, the counter on his chest still beating gently, a reminder of the cost of this transaction.

He didn't speak again, but just gripped the runestone in his hand tightly, as if he wanted to press all his determination onto the cold stone surface.

The wind gradually subsided, but the lights inside the tents still flickered.

That night, the fate of three thousand assassins was rewritten in his hands.

Forbidden Training

The night was thick, like ink that couldn't be dissolved, pressing heavily over the camp.

Zhou Yang stood at the edge of the platform, holding a stack of rough yellow paper in his hand. The paper smelled of old wood pulp and was covered with dense writing. It was not some secret manual from a prestigious sect, but a fragment of the "Innate Yang Technique" that he had been copying by hand for the past two nights.

To adapt this technique to a quick-learning version suitable for these assassins, he racked his brains. In his view, so-called taboos were merely synonyms for breaking conventions. As long as the efficiency was high enough, side effects could be postponed.

Below, three thousand elite soldiers stood in neat rows, their breathing deliberately suppressed, converging into a muffled gust of air.

Zhou Yang didn't say anything, but just flicked his wrist.

Splash!

Yellow paper fluttered down like snowflakes, scattering among the crowd. The paper was light and fell silently, but to these assassins, it felt heavier than a thousand-pound block of iron.

"This is your stepping stone."

Zhou Yang's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly across the empty training ground. He glanced around, his gaze as if he were taking inventory, devoid of any warmth.

"Take it back and practice. Those who practice well will live; those who don't will die."

There was no empty talk, no rousing mobilization orders. For these people who were ready to die at any moment, being alive was the greatest reward; there was no need for empty promises.

The assassins bent down to pick up the papers, their movements perfectly synchronized, the rustling sound of the papers rubbing together particularly jarring in the night.

Zhou Yang turned and strode back to his tent. This batch of goods was his future capital; whether it would appreciate in value depended on tonight's performance. He touched his chest, where the counter was still beating faintly, reminding him that he had overdrawn a small portion of his lifespan in his efforts to deduce this simplified version of the cultivation technique.

We have to make our money back on this deal.

Outside the tent, Qin Shuang leaned against a pillar, toying with a short knife in her hand. The blade reflected the firelight, drawing a line of light and shadow across her face.

"Are you really going to teach them?" Qin Shuang asked, her tone devoid of emotion. "This technique is based on a violent and forceful approach. If ordinary people practice it, they are likely to explode and die."

"The dead can't speak, and they don't feel pain." Zhou Yang walked into the tent, poured himself a glass of water, and said, "What I need is a knife that can kill, not a young master who needs to be coaxed to sleep. As long as I can cut a gash in those Heavenly Principle Cult bastards, even if they're crippled afterward, it'll still be a profit."

Qin Shuang didn't say anything more, but simply sheathed her sword with a crisp click.

In the center of the camp, the assassins had already begun to practice their techniques.

At first, there was a deathly silence, then a chorus of heavy breathing broke the stillness of the night. Heat rose from everyone's bodies, turning into white mist in the cold night. It wasn't ordinary heat, but a burning sensation caused by the surging of blood and qi.

The simplified version of the "Innate Yang Technique" is like a brutal hammer, forcibly smashing open the blocked meridians in their bodies.

Some people looked pained, their faces contorted; some clenched their teeth, blood spilling from the corners of their mouths; and some collapsed to the ground convulsing, their bodies curled up like boiled shrimp.

Nobody stopped.

Because in their minds, stopping means losing value. And things that have lost their value can only be discarded.

Zhou Yang sat in his tent, holding a spirit stone in his hand, sensing the faint fluctuations of spiritual energy within. He could hear everything happening outside clearly: screams and the cracking of bones intertwined to create an unpleasant symphony.

To him, this sound was the sound of capital at work.

Suddenly, Zhou Yang's fingers paused.

He stopped playing with the spirit stone, and his ears twitched slightly.

The wind has changed.

What was originally just the howling night wind outside the tent now carried a faint, almost imperceptible sound. The sound was so faint, like the flapping of an insect's wings, that it was impossible to detect unless one listened carefully.

But this couldn't fool Zhou Yang's senses, which had been enhanced by the system.

"They're here," Zhou Yang said in a low voice, a cold smile playing on his lips.

Qin Shuang immediately became alert, her hand on the hilt of her knife: "How many people?"

"Rats always come in packs," Zhou Yang said, standing up and dusting off his clothes. "These guys are quite patient, waiting until we've just started practicing before making their move. Are they trying to take advantage of our unstable foundation?"

Before he could finish speaking, a piercing scream suddenly rang out from the direction of the camp.

That wasn't the cry of someone going astray during martial arts practice, but rather the hissing sound of air leaking through blood vessels when the throat is cut by a sharp blade.

Then, chaos erupted.

The once quiet training camp of assassins erupted like a pot of boiling water thrown in with a stone. Several dark figures darted out of the darkness like ghosts, their curved blades gleaming with an eerie blue light in the moonlight. They didn't engage the assassins in close combat, but attacked vital points, each strike taking a life.

Those were secret sentries of the Heavenly Principle Sect.

Although the assassins had only recently begun learning the techniques and their bodies were still adapting, they were, after all, the elite of the best. After a brief moment of panic, those in the front ranks began to fight back. However, their newly acquired internal energy was still raw, and facing those ruthless assassins, they were risking their lives.

Blood splattered onto the yellowed pages, the ink instantly spreading.

Zhou Yang slowly walked out of the tent.

The scene outside was horrific; dozens of corpses lay scattered on the ground, their blood staining the soil black. The assassins, having killed several men, were preparing to retreat into the darkness.

"You think you can kill my people?"

Zhou Yang's voice was very soft, yet it felt like a needle pricking everyone's eardrums.

The assassins paused, clearly not expecting their seemingly weak leader to show himself. They exchanged glances, one of them making a hand gesture, and the remaining three immediately turned their blades and charged straight at Zhou Yang.

Extremely fast.

The blade was aimed directly at Zhou Yang's throat, heart, and lower abdomen, the movements perfectly coordinated. This was a combined attack technique practiced countless times, designed to shred the prey into pieces in the shortest possible time.

Zhou Yang stood still, without even raising his hand.

Just as the blade was about to touch the hem of his clothes, he moved.

Instead of retreating or dodging, they charged head-on into the blade.

Lifespan consumed: 10 days.

The world in his field of vision slowed down instantly. The assassins' movements became slow motion in his eyes; the contraction of their muscles, the trajectory of their blades, and even the fleeting look of surprise in their eyes were all clearly visible.

Zhou Yang reached out with his right hand, as if to pluck a leaf from a tree.

Snapped.

He caught an incoming head.

No force is needed, just twist it gently.

Click.

The sound of bones cracking was crisp and pleasant. The assassin didn't even have time to scream before his body went limp and he collapsed.

The other two assassins' pupils constricted sharply as they tried to sheathe their swords and change tactics, but their bodies couldn't keep up with their thoughts.

Zhou Yang's feet moved erratically, his figure flashing past the blade on the left like a ghost, and he struck his opponent's chest with a backhand elbow.

puff.

The man's chest visibly caved in, and he flew backward, knocking over two assassins who were trying to finish him off.

The last remaining assassin was terrified. He had thought it was just a simple sabotage mission, but he hadn't expected to encounter a monster.

He turned and tried to run away.

Zhou Yang didn't give him a chance.

A long sword lying on the ground had somehow ended up in Zhou Yang's hand. He casually swung it, and the blade flashed like a crescent-shaped bolt of lightning, slicing through the night sky.

The assassin's running figure froze.

A few seconds later, a neat line of blood appeared on his neck.

thump.

The head rolled off, and the headless corpse continued forward a few steps due to inertia before crashing heavily to the ground.

From start to finish, it all happened in the blink of an eye.

The entire room fell silent.

The assassins, who had been fighting fiercely, stopped and stared in horror at Zhou Yang standing in the center of the arena. He held a long sword with a dulled blade in his hand, and there wasn't a single drop of blood on him. The night wind rustled his clothes.

Is this what their instructors are like?

Is this the Mr. Zhou who always seems to be smiling and calculating with money?

Those assassins were stronger than any of the other assassins present, yet they couldn't even last a single move against Zhou Yang. This overwhelming superiority speaks louder than any words.

Zhou Yang casually tossed the long sword to the ground, making a crisp clanging sound.

He didn't look at the corpses on the ground, but turned to the terrified soldiers.

"Did you see clearly?"

Zhou Yang pointed to the assassin on the ground whose chest was caved in, his tone as calm as if he were talking about what to have for dinner.

"This is what you will look like after you've mastered the training. If you fail, this is what you will look like."

None of the assassins dared to speak; fear and awe permeated the air.

"Drag the body away, strip it naked, keep the clothes you can sell, bury the rest." Zhou Yang waved his hand as if shooing away a few flies. "Don't delay your training time. If you can't cultivate the first level of internal energy tonight, you can skip breakfast tomorrow."

After saying that, he turned and left without changing his pace, as if killing a few people was no different from stepping on a few ants.

Back in the tent, Qin Shuang was wiping her sword. Seeing Zhou Yang enter, she sheathed the sword, a hint of inquiry in her eyes.

"You're not injured?"

"This kind of trash can't hurt me?" Zhou Yang sat back in his chair, picked up the water he hadn't finished earlier and drank it all in one gulp. "But it did remind me that our place isn't hidden very well. Those dogs have a better nose than I thought."

Zhou Yang pulled out a waist tag he had taken from the assassin from his pocket. It had a hideous ghost face engraved on it.

"The Netherworld Guards of the Heavenly Principle Sect." Qin Shuang glanced at them, her brows furrowing slightly. "How did they end up here? It seems that what that old geezer Fang Tian left behind is more important than I thought."

"Important is good, the more important, the more valuable." Zhou Yang threw the waist token on the table with a thud. "Since they made the first move, they can't blame me for breaking the rules. I originally planned to slowly cultivate this group of assassins, but now it seems I need to add fuel to the fire."

Zhou Yang stood up, walked to the map, and pressed his finger heavily on it.

"Tell the brothers, we're not sleeping tonight. Although this 'Innate Yang Technique' is powerful, I remember there's a supporting method that can overdraw our potential for a short burst of power. Although the side effect is that we'll be as weak as dogs for three days, tonight, I'm going to turn them into wolves."

Qin Shuang looked at Zhou Yang's profile. The lamplight cast a long shadow on the tent, making him look like a lurking wild beast.

"You're driving them to their deaths."

"They were already dead," Zhou Yang said without turning his head. "Since they're dead, we have to squeeze every last drop of value out of them before they die. I don't believe in fate; I only believe in what I have in my hands."

Outside the tent, the wind howled even louder.

The suicide bombers' panting resumed, heavier and more frantic than before. Blood mixed with sweat dripped onto the soil, nourishing this wasteland called "Survival."

Zhou Yang closed his eyes, calculating the return on investment for this round of investment in his mind.

The deaths of several assassins were exchanged for a lifespan increase of several thousand days, which also helped eliminate a few spies.

It's a good deal.

He touched his nose, a slight smile appearing on his lips.

This is just the beginning; the real show is only just starting.

circulation of banknotes

Mornings come earlier in the Eastern Capital than elsewhere.

The cobblestones on the street were still damp, and Zhou Yang was already seated behind the large rosewood table. This table had been confiscated from the home of a fallen noble family just yesterday; the wood was of good quality, though it had some scratches, but that didn't affect its use.

He held a vermilion pen in his hand and drew a circle on the account book.

"Next."

The sound was soft, carrying a lazy quality of someone who had just woken up.

A long queue stretched outside the door. They were all shopkeepers from well-known merchant guilds in the Eastern Capital. Normally, these people were arrogant and would put on airs even when they saw a seventh-rank official, but now they were all shrinking back like quails waiting to be slaughtered.

At the very front of the line was Manager Zhao of Fuxiang.

Manager Zhao was holding a sandalwood tray covered with a red cloth. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, the beads of sweat running down his plump cheeks and dripping onto his collar, leaving a dark stain.

"Mr. Zhou... Mr. Zhou," Manager Zhao's voice trembled slightly, "this is our Fuxiang Company's 'standard pay' for this month. Please take a look."

Zhou Yang didn't reply, but merely raised his eyelids slightly.

The assassin next to him stepped forward and ripped off the red cloth.

The gleaming white silver notes were neatly stacked in three layers.

Zhou Yang reached out and picked it up, not examining it closely, but simply rubbing the paper with his fingertips. The paper had a texture that was both rough and smooth, a technique unique to the official printing bureau, indicating good anti-counterfeiting measures.

"Too little." Zhou Yang threw the banknotes on the table.

Manager Zhao's legs went weak, and he almost knelt down. "No less, no less, a full five thousand taels, all in cash..."

"I said it was too little." Zhou Yang picked up his teacup, blew away the foam, and said, "Last month, the Fuxiang ship, using the Qin family's fleet, transported three batches of silk to the south, quadrupling its profits. What, is this all the sincerity you offer me?"

Manager Zhao's face turned a deep shade of liver. This news was kept tightly under wraps; how did this person know everything?

"This...this..." Manager Zhao stammered, unable to utter a single word for a long time.

Zhou Yang put down the teacup, making a crisp sound.

"Don't want to do business in the 'safe zone'?"

Upon hearing this, Manager Zhao shuddered.

Since Zhou Yang took over the defense of Dongdu, a "safe zone" has been designated within the city. This "safe zone" is essentially the territory radiating from the Qin family's trading network. Here, there are no thugs demanding protection money, no marauding soldiers, and even the curfew is practically non-existent—provided you pay.

Once you pay, you're one of us.

If you don't pay, and something goes wrong, then it's considered an "accident".

"I'll pay! I'll pay!" Manager Zhao pulled out another stack of silver notes from his pocket, this time for two thousand taels. "This is a token of my respect, a gift for Mr. Zhou to have some tea!"

Zhou Yang's lips curled up slightly, but he didn't say anything. He simply gestured to the assassin next to him to accept the money.

"Next."

Manager Zhao felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He stepped aside with the tray in his arms, his legs still weak.

Zhou Yang was very skilled at handling these kinds of situations. He didn't need to resort to violence, or even raise his voice. He just needed to sit there, put on an air of "I know your cards," and wait for the other party to empty their pockets.

This is the information gap.

In this world, information is life, and it's also money.

As the sun rose higher, sunlight streamed through the window and fell onto the ledger. Zhou Yang stared at the strings of numbers, the internal counter visible only to him not moving, but he felt a thrill that was even more exhilarating than if it were.

These are real resources.

With money, you can buy spirit stones, weapons, and bribe officials. You can even buy the lives of those so-called "reputable sects".

At noon, the sound of armor rubbing together came from the doorway.

Zhou Yang didn't look up, continuing to flip through the account book.

"What, Commander Qin has come to audit the accounts?"

A fragrant breeze wafted by, carrying a faint scent of blood, a unique aroma of someone who had practiced martial arts for many years, mixed with the styrax incense that Qin Shuang often used.

A hand rested on the ledger.

The fingers are long and slender, with thin calluses on the knuckles—marks left from holding a knife.

Zhou Yang raised his head.

Qin Shuang stood opposite him. She wasn't wearing her official robes today, but rather a more practical outfit, her hair tied up high, making her look neat and capable. However, her eyes held a hint of helplessness, as well as a barely concealed smile.

"Are you ransacking my house?" Qin Shuang glanced at the pile of silver notes on the table, which looked like a small mountain.

"This is a tax," Zhou Yang corrected, "a reasonable business protection fee."

"Manager Zhao's face was pale when he left just now." Qin Shuang pulled out a chair and sat down, picking up Zhou Yang's teacup and taking a sip. "If he accuses you of extortion, I won't protect you."

"He wouldn't dare." Zhou Yang neatly arranged the banknotes and put them into a wooden box. "He knows in his heart that once he steps out of this door, no one can guarantee him the same safety he would have in the safe zone. In this world, safety is a luxury, and I'm selling it cheaply."

Qin Shuang sighed softly as she looked at his matter-of-fact attitude.

"You really are a money-grubbing evil god."

"Even evil gods need to eat." Zhou Yang locked the wooden box and put the key in his pocket. "Moreover, it's not just about eating. It's about weaving our net even tighter."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Downstairs, the street was bustling with people. Caravans that had paid were swaggering as they loaded their goods onto their wagons. The Qin family's flags flew on the front of the wagons, and even the city patrol soldiers on the roadside gave them a wide berth.

These are the rules.

Previously, the rules were set by the imperial court and by powerful families. Now, in this small corner of the Eastern Capital, the rules are set by Zhou Yang.

"Look at that cloth shop over there," Zhou Yang pointed to a shop in the distance with a sign that read "Su," "The shopkeeper is a tough nut to crack; he refused to pay the money a couple of days ago. As a result, a few petty thieves broke into the shop last night and burned a bolt of cloth."

Qin Shuang raised an eyebrow. "You had someone do it?"

"Do I look like that kind of person?" Zhou Yang turned around, looking completely innocent. "I just happened to be passing by and saw that those petty thieves were quite skilled. They seemed to be remnants of the Heavenly Principle Sect. I casually reminded Manager Su that in this chaotic world, it's always good to have a powerful backer."

Qin Shuang couldn't help but laugh.

"You probably received a hefty bribe for that casual reminder."

"That was voluntary on his part." Zhou Yang turned around and leaned against the window frame. "Manager Su sent over three thousand taels of 'thank you money' early this morning. He said it was to thank me for making him realize the situation."

Qin Shuang shook her head, stood up, and walked to his side.

The two stood side by side, watching the bustling crowd below.

"If you keep going like this, you'll eventually push the other chambers of commerce to the brink," Qin Shuang said in a lower voice. "If they unite..."

"A coalition?" Zhou Yang scoffed. "When it comes to profit, they'll only undermine each other. Manager Zhao wishes Manager Su would close down tomorrow, and Manager Su hopes Manager Zhao's fleet would capsize in the river. As long as I give them an outlet, make them think that as long as they crush others, they can live well, they'll obediently hand over their money."

This is human nature.

Zhou Yang's greatest skill is manipulating human nature.

He doesn't need friends or allies. He only needs a community of shared interests.

"Moreover," Zhou Yang changed the subject, "I'm not just taking in and not giving out."

He pointed to the end of the street.

There, a squad of assassins clad in black armor were patrolling. Their steps were synchronized, their eyes cold, and wherever they passed, the vendors who had been hawking their wares fell silent, but there was no fear in their eyes, only a strange tranquility.

"As long as they pay, I guarantee their safety. Whether they are remnants of the Heavenly Principle Sect, petty thieves from the mountains, or even rebel soldiers from the imperial court, if they dare to lay a finger on them, I dare to wipe out their entire family." Zhou Yang's voice was soft, but it carried a ruthless edge. "A promise is a promise, that's what credibility is."

Qin Shuang turned her head to look at him.

Sunlight shone on Zhou Yang's profile, outlining a golden silhouette. This man always talked about profit and had scheming ingrained in his bones, but it was precisely this naked honesty that made him impossible to hate.

It even makes people feel at ease.

"Reputation..." Qin Shuang chewed on the word, "In the martial arts world, reputation is usually earned through bloodshed."

"That was before." Zhou Yang stretched. "Now, credibility is built on banknotes. As long as you pay enough, I'm the most trustworthy person in the world."

He turned around and dusted off his hands.

"Alright, enough with the sentimentality. How are we going to divide this money?"

"The Qin family will take 70% to expand the caravan and repair the city's defenses," Qin Shuang had already decided. "The remaining 30% is yours."

"Too little." Zhou Yang frowned. "I want fifty percent."

"Forty percent." Qin Shuang stood her ground. "You still need to support those three thousand elite soldiers, and the Qin family also needs to bribe the higher-ups."

"Forty-five percent." Zhou Yang held up five fingers. "I can't go any lower. I'm getting a batch of new equipment soon, and it's going to be very expensive."

Qin Shuang stared at him for a while, then suddenly laughed.

"make a deal."

Zhou Yang nodded in satisfaction.

He picked up the abacus on the table and began to work on it with a clattering sound. The crisp, melodious clinking of the abacus beads sounded to him better than any piece of music.

"By the way," Zhou Yang casually asked while doing the accounting, "what's been going on with that Commander Chen lately?"

When Chen Qianhu was mentioned, Qin Shuang's eyes turned cold.

"He's been actively lobbying various chambers of commerce that haven't paid their dues. It seems he's trying to create some kind of 'business alliance' to counter your 'safe zone'."

Zhou Yang's hands didn't stop moving.

"Let him do whatever he wants."

Aren't you worried?

"What are you worried about?" Zhou Yang raised his head, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes. "The more he makes a scene, the more scared those merchants who haven't paid will become. Once he's done causing trouble, I'll take care of him. Then, those merchants will be begging me to give them money."

That's rhythm.

Zhou Yang never fights a battle unprepared, nor does he engage in unprofitable business. He is like a patient hunter, laying a trap in the jungle and waiting for his prey to run into it.

Commander Chen is nothing but a clown. Perfect, let's make an example of him and establish our authority.

"By the way, are you free tonight?" Qin Shuang suddenly asked.

Zhou Yang was taken aback. "What? Going to kill and set fires again?"

"A new restaurant opened in the south of the city. I heard their drunken chicken is pretty good." Qin Shuang looked into his eyes. "I'd like to treat you to a meal."

Zhou Yang looked at her and suddenly felt that the sunlight was a bit too bright today.

"I can have dinner with you." He lowered his head and continued fiddling with the abacus, "but we'll have to split the bill."

Qin Shuang was stunned for a moment, then laughed and scolded, "Get lost."

Zhou Yang shrugged and didn't say anything more.

But he couldn't suppress the smile on his lips.

The hustle and bustle outside the window continued, and the banknotes inside the box exuded the scent of ink. Zhou Yang knew this was just the beginning.

His business empire, his "safe zone," and his rules are gradually taking root and sprouting in this chaotic world.

And the foundation of all this is these thin banknotes.

He needs neither the protection of any deity nor the favor of fate. What he holds in his hand is his own god.

"These abacus beads are so smooth," Zhou Yang muttered to himself, picking up a cloth and carefully wiping them.

He had just bought it from the antique market yesterday; it had a sandalwood frame and ivory beads. It cost him five hundred taels of silver.

It hurts, but it's worth it.

After all, this is a tool for counting money.

Zhou Yang polished the beads meticulously, making each one shine. Just like how he treated every business deal and every detail.

In this chaotic world, only tangible things will not betray you.

People change, hearts change, but this abacus bought for five hundred taels will remain here as long as it isn't broken, faithfully recording every single income.

Zhou Yang put away the abacus, stood up, and stretched.

The joints made a cracking sound.

"Let's go eat," he said to Qin Shuang. "But it's agreed that the cost of this meal will be charged to the company account."

Qin Shuang rolled her eyes at him and turned to leave.

Zhou Yang followed behind, his steps light and quick.

Outside, merchants were still waiting in line to pay. Zhou Yang didn't even glance at them and walked straight over.

The merchants quickly made way for him, heads bowed, not daring to look him in the eye.

Zhou Yang walked very steadily.

He knew that from this day forward, the world in Dongdu was about to change.

The cost of this upheaval has already been contained in the wooden box he just locked.

Banknotes are circulating, and so is power.

Zhou Yang was just the person standing by the river, scooping fish with a net.

The more you earn, the better you live.

This is enough.