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

It was still dark.

A thin layer of frost had formed on the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City, giving them a bluish-white sheen.

Zhou Yang walked along the palace's bluestone path, his shoes still damp with mud from the previous night. He hadn't changed his clothes; his tattered cloak was still crumbling, and the smell of gunpowder mixed with blood seemed completely out of place in this place where only the scents of sandalwood and cosmetics lingered.

The imperial guards at the gate trembled slightly when they saw him.

No one dared to stop them.

No one dared to ask.

Zhou Yang didn't even look at them, and walked straight towards the Imperial Study. He took long strides, each step firm and deliberate, as if he were strolling in his own backyard.

The door to the Imperial Study was ajar.

It was eerily quiet inside.

Zhou Yang raised his hand and pushed the door open.

The door hinges turned, making a dull creak.

The room was dimly lit. The emperor sat behind a large rosewood desk, dressed in a bright yellow casual robe, his hand tightly clutching a string of Buddhist prayer beads. Hearing a noise, his fingers jerked back, causing the beads to clink together with a crisp sound.

"You've arrived."

The emperor's voice was a little hoarse, as if he had sand stuck in his throat.

Zhou Yang didn't stand on ceremony and found a chair to sit down. The chair was made of mahogany, hard and uncomfortable. He didn't mind, crossed his legs, leaned back, and let out a long breath.

"They're here."

Zhou Yang patted his belly. "Your Majesty, the roads in this palace are too long and tiring to walk. Could you please get me a horse? Next time I'll just ride in."

The emperor's face twitched.

He looked at the blood-covered man before him, his eyes filled with deep fear. He had felt the fierce battle that had taken place over the capital last night, even though it was separated by layers of palace walls.

That kind of aura that could destroy the world.

That ruthless way of slaughtering the "upper realm" celestial messengers like chickens.

This Zhou Yang is no longer just a knife.

He is a ferocious beast that could devour people at any moment.

"Minister Zhou, you jest."

The emperor forced a smile, his facial muscles stiff and unresponsive. He reached out and groped around on his desk for a moment before picking up a bright yellow imperial edict that had been prepared beforehand.

"Your Excellency made a great contribution in last night's battle. I...I have already prepared the decree."

The emperor's hand trembled slightly, and the rolled-up edge of the imperial edict swayed.

"I hereby bestow upon you the title of a king of a different surname, with a fief of ten thousand households. Furthermore... I grant you a marriage to a princess, and promise you to marry her. From this day forward, you and I will be both ruler and subject, and also in-laws."

The emperor pushed the imperial edict forward.

He's gambling.

I bet Zhou Yang is still that mortal who craves wealth and status. I bet Zhou Yang wants power, fame, and that empty reputation.

Once Zhou Yang accepted the imperial decree, he would have to observe the proper etiquette between ruler and subject, and be bound by the rules of the imperial family. Those elaborate formalities and so-called decorum were the best chains.

Zhou Yang looked at the rolled-up imperial edict.

Didn't move.

He didn't even reach out to take it.

"Wang?" Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Can this thing be eaten?"

The emperor was stunned.

"A princess?" Zhou Yang continued, his eyes devoid of any desire, as if he were looking at a stone. "Taking her home would mean serving her and spending money to raise her. Your Majesty, this is a losing proposition."

"You..." The emperor's hand froze in mid-air.

Zhou Yang waved his hand, interrupting him.

"Your Majesty, let's be frank. You can keep all that empty talk for yourself. I'm not interested."

Zhou Yang sat up straight.

That lazy feeling vanished instantly.

An invisible pressure permeated the cramped imperial study. The emperor felt his breath catch in his throat, as if someone were choking him.

"I'm here only to discuss business."

As Zhou Yang spoke, he pulled a dark piece of iron from his pocket.

Those are fragments of the Dragonspine Sword.

Although it was just a fragment, the chill emanating from it instantly lowered the temperature in the imperial study by several degrees. The candlelight on the desk flickered, as if it might go out at any moment.

Zhou Yang's hand trembled.

With a clang.

The broken piece slammed heavily onto the dragon table.

The hard rosewood tabletop was cut open like tofu. A fragment was deeply embedded, less than an inch from the emperor's finger.

The emperor abruptly withdrew his hand, leaning backward and crashing into the back of the dragon throne.

"This...this is..." The emperor's pupils contracted sharply.

"The Dragon Spine Sword," Zhou Yang said calmly. "I just snatched it from those 'immortals' last night. Although it's broken, it's still enough to kill a couple of people."

Zhou Yang tapped the hilt of the sword twice with his fingers.

"Your Majesty, this sword is too sharp; I don't like it. It's easy to hurt my hand."

Zhou Yang pulled another piece of paper out of his pocket.

The paper was thin, wrinkled, and stained with oil, as if it had just been torn from a steamed bun at a roadside stall.

He slammed the paper onto the dragon table.

It landed right next to that piece of the Dragon Spine Sword.

"Sign it."

The emperor looked down.

There were only a few lines of text on the paper, the handwriting was messy and had a wild, cursive feel to it.

The Qin Family Permanent Autonomy Agreement.

The content is very simple.

The Qin family's fiefdom will be subject to a perpetual 50% tax reduction. Members of the Qin family will not be subject to the court's laws if they commit crimes. The Qin family's military power will be completely independent and will not be subject to the Ministry of War's command.

The signature section was left blank.

It bore the emperor's private seal, which Zhou Yang had casually taken from one of the eunuchs last night.

"You've gone mad!" The emperor stood up abruptly, the dragon throne slamming shut with a loud bang. "This is rebellion! This is an attempt to seize territory and establish new fiefdoms! How can my ancestral lands be..."

"His Majesty."

Zhou Yang interrupted him.

The sound wasn't loud, but it pierced the emperor's ears like a nail.

"Last night, when those immortals from the 'upper realm' came down, I saw you kneeling before the altar begging for mercy."

Zhou Yang pointed to the top of his head.

"Back then, your ancestral land almost disappeared."

The emperor's face instantly turned a deep liver color.

"Now, I'll kill them all for you. Your kingdom is saved."

Zhou Yang stood up, placed his hands on the dragon table, and leaned forward. His dark eyes were fixed on the emperor.

"I don't want your empire. I don't want to be a prince. I just want this piece of paper."

"That's fair."

Zhou Yang pressed his finger on the crumpled paper, his fingernail leaving a mark on the surface.

"Qin Shuang is my person. The Qin family is my money bag. Only when my money bag is safe can I help you manage this mess. Otherwise..."

Zhou Yang gently fiddled with the dragon spine fragment embedded in the table.

"If this sword breaks, the shards will fly out and who knows whose throat they might slit?"

The emperor's breathing became rapid.

His chest heaved violently.

He looked at the paper, then at the piece of sword that emanated a terrifying chill.

Reason told him he couldn't sign.

Signing it would damage imperial power and cause a loss of face.

I won't sign...

The man in front of him really would kill him.

The blood-red light that filled the sky last night, the sword energy that pierced the heavens—it's all still vivid in my mind. Before this man, what imperial power, what ancestral laws—they're as fragile as paper.

The emperor's calves began to cramp.

The fear that seeped into his very bones made it impossible for him to think.

He is a smart man.

Knowing when to be firm and when to be soft.

Now is the time to soften.

Where there is life, there is hope.

"This...this is just an agreement?" The emperor's voice trembled as he tried to save face. "No...no other conditions?"

"No," Zhou Yang answered decisively. "I'll sign and leave. From now on, you be your emperor, and I'll do my business. We'll keep to ourselves."

Zhou Yang took a pen out of his sleeve.

He casually tossed it onto the dragon table.

The pen rolled twice and came to rest beside the emperor.

Here's the pen. The ink's ready too.

Zhou Yang took a step back, crossed his arms, and looked at him with a leisurely air.

The emperor stared at the pen.

It was a fine purple-haired brush, with gold thread inlaid on the handle. It was only used when reviewing the most important memorials.

Now, this pen weighs a ton.

The emperor extended his hand.

My fingertips trembled noticeably the moment they touched the pen.

He grabbed the pen.

Dip in ink.

The ink was dark black and smelled of pine soot.

The emperor took a deep breath, trying to steady his wrist.

No.

It's still shaking.

He glanced at Zhou Yang.

Zhou Yang was looking down at his fingernails, seemingly trimming the blood from under them, and wasn't even looking at him.

But that feeling of being constantly on edge didn't diminish at all.

The emperor gritted his teeth.

My heart skipped a beat.

The pen tip falls.

The ink has spread.

The first word is "accurate".

His handwriting was crooked and messy, like that of a child who had just learned to write.

Next comes the signature and personal seal.

With a "snap".

The seal was stamped.

The bright red ink spread across the paper, resembling a pool of blood.

The emperor loosened his grip.

The purple-tipped brush fell onto the dragon desk with a "thud," rolled twice, and then fell to the ground.

He seemed to have all his strength drained away, slumping onto the dragon throne. Fine beads of sweat covered his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto his bright yellow collar.

"alright."

Zhou Yang stepped forward and picked up the paper.

He glanced at it and nodded in satisfaction.

"The handwriting is good. Although it's a bit unsteady, it's genuine."

Zhou Yang carefully folded the paper, tucked it into his bosom, and placed it close to his body.

Then, he reached into the table and pulled out the dragon spine fragment embedded in it.

With a "hiss".

Wood chips flew everywhere.

A shocking hole was left on the desktop.

Zhou Yang held the fragment in his hand and weighed it in his hand.

"I'll take this thing. I'll find a blacksmith to repair it and sell it for a good price."

Zhou Yang turned around and walked out.

He stopped at the door.

"By the way, Your Majesty."

Zhou Yang turned around and glanced at the emperor, who was slumped in his chair.

"Don't ask me for this kind of business again. I'm planning to take a break and avoid getting involved in any more trouble."

"Also, remember to tell people not to chase away the mutton soup stall. It tastes great, and I want to drink it for many more years to come."

After saying that, Zhou Yang waved his hand.

He pushed open the door and went out.

The wind blowing in from outside dispersed the oppressive sandalwood scent in the room.

The emperor sat on the dragon throne, staring blankly at the tightly closed door.

The Imperial Study was very quiet.

Only the broken dragon-shaped table silently recounted what had just happened.

The emperor's hands were still trembling.

He looked at the pen on the ground, then at the hole in the table.

Suddenly, he laughed.

His laughter was dry and harsh, even worse than crying.

"An evil god... truly an evil god."

……

When Zhou Yang walked out of the palace gate, the sun had already risen.

The sunlight felt warm and cozy on my skin.

He stretched, and his bones cracked all over.

My stomach growled at just the right moment.

"Gurgle—"

Zhou Yang touched his stomach.

"Alright, mutton soup, let's go."

He started walking and headed towards the south of the city.

The Forbidden City stood majestically behind him, resplendent in gold and jade. But in Zhou Yang's eyes, it was nothing more than a larger cage.

And he had just pried open the cage door.

As for what the people inside think, that's their business.

Anyway, the money is in hand.

Life expectancy has also stabilized.

This is the real business.

Zhou Yang hummed an unknown tune and disappeared into the bustling crowd with light steps.

Street vendors were calling out their wares, and steaming hot buns were just coming out of the steamer.

Fireworks.

This is what it feels like to be alive.

Legend of the Peerless Evil God

The mutton soup shop in the south of the city was small, with only three greasy square tables and a few yellowed notices pasted on the walls. The shop was filled with a strong muttony smell, accompanied by the crackling of charcoal and steaming heat.

Zhou Yang sat in the corner, a large bowl of mutton soup with double the amount of meat in front of him. He held a rough steamed bun in his hand, tore off a piece, dipped it in the thick soup, and then put it in his mouth.

The meat was firm and the broth was rich; this feeling of truly filling his stomach was more comforting than any profound martial arts technique.

Just as he was enjoying his meal, a commotion suddenly broke out on the street outside the shop.

A group of people were hurrying this way, their footsteps heavy, accompanied by hushed conversation. Zhou Yang didn't look up, but his ears twitched slightly.

"Have you heard? The ledgers of those blood sacrifices have all been made public."

"Really? The secrets of those forbidden areas have been revealed?"

"Not only the account books, but even the true faces of those so-called 'celestial envoys' have been exposed. I heard it was a man named Zhou Yang who posted the evidence directly on the streets and alleys of the capital, not even sparing the walls of the palace."

After listening, Zhou Yang took a sip of soup slowly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

He did indeed do that.

Three days ago, he used an extremely simple and brutal method. He did not choose to deliver it to the imperial court through any secret channels, nor did he hand it over to those so-called righteous leaders.

He directly burned a small portion of his lifespan to deduce a "formation" that could cause text to spread on a large scale in a short period of time. He turned all the evidence about blood sacrifice, harvesting from the upper realm, and collusion between the powerful and the wealthy into countless white pages, which fell like snowflakes over the capital city.

That day, everyone in the capital looked up at the sky.

Countless secrets, thus, became topics of conversation for everyone to see under the public eye.

Those powerful figures who once clung to life through blood sacrifices were utterly powerless in the face of evidence. They tried to cover it up, but when the evidence spread throughout the city and ordinary people learned that their loved ones had been used as some kind of "nourishment," anger became the best catalyst.

He tore through an old era with a pile of paper.

At this moment, the commotion outside the soup shop grew louder and louder.

"Peerless Evil God... that's what people call him."

"An evil god? I think he's a savior. Although his methods are ruthless, he really cleaned up all that filth this time."

"Shh, keep your voice down. I've heard that Zhou Yang's strength is unfathomable. He can deduce everything in an instant and kill without a knife, just with a thought."

Zhou Yang put down the bowl and wiped his mouth with a rough cloth.

Peerless Evil God.

He was quite satisfied with this title; at least it sounded very intimidating. And most importantly, as long as everyone thought he was a terrifying evil god, no one would dare to talk to him about "morality" and "righteousness" behind his back.

In his logic, a good reputation is one that can be converted into profit or a place to survive.

He stood up, ready to pay the bill.

Just then, the shop door was pushed open.

The person who entered was not one of the gossiping passersby, but a man dressed in a simple blue robe. The man looked gentle, but his eyes revealed a solemnity born of years of experience.

The other person glanced around the store and their gaze lingered on Zhou Yang.

The man didn't speak, but slowly bent down and bowed deeply to Zhou Yang.

This action silenced everyone around.

Everyone knows this man is a reclusive master of martial arts, renowned throughout the land, and usually arrogant and disdainful of everyone. Now, he's actually bowing to a young man eating mutton soup?

Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, waiting for the other party to speak.

"Mr. Zhou," the man said in a deep voice, "people in the martial arts world want you to come out of seclusion and set some rules for this era."

Zhou Yang was stunned for a moment, then looked down at the empty soup bowl.

Setting rules?

What he hates most is rules. Rules are made for the weak, and his life motto is only one: as long as it costs more money or can extend one's lifespan, any rule is negotiable.

He looked at the other person, his tone indifferent.

"Coming out of the mountains? How much?"

The other person was clearly not expected to ask that question, and their expression froze for a moment before they coughed awkwardly.

"This isn't about money; it's about reputation, the foundation for generations to come..."

"I'm just asking you, how much?" Zhou Yang interrupted him, his eyes turning cold. "My time is precious; every second is a matter of my lifespan. You want me to come out of seclusion and set the rules? Name your price first. If it doesn't meet my expectations, then please turn left and don't block my way out."

The man remained silent for a long time before finally saying in a low voice, "As long as you are willing, as long as you ask, the resources of any sect in the martial arts world, including those legendary rare treasures, can all be yours."

Zhou Yang's eyes lit up.

Rare and precious materials signify longevity.

This deal is negotiable.

But he didn't waste too much time on the man; instead, he waved him away.

"Go back and tell those people that I won't leave the mountain. But I can collect taxes."

Zhou Yang walked to the door and glanced back at the dumbfounded man.

"If anyone wants to do anything 'just' or 'evil' on my turf, they'll have to pay a thousand taels of silver as a 'security management fee.' Only after the money arrives will I consider not killing them."

After saying that, he walked briskly out of the store, the sunlight shining on him, warm and pleasant.

The moment people on the street saw him, they instinctively parted to make way for him.

Whether it's fear or awe, Zhou Yang sees it as a form of "value."

He walked through the bustling market, surrounded by the sounds of vendors hawking their wares and haggling over prices.

In the distance, Qin Shuang was waiting for him on horseback. Today she was wearing a dark, close-fitting outfit, with that familiar longsword at her waist. Her icy face finally softened a little when she saw Zhou Yang.

"Have you finished eating?" Qin Shuang asked.

"Double the meat, very satisfying." Zhou Yang walked over and naturally took the reins. "Let's go, let's go back to our territory."

"Your name is known throughout the world right now, and you actually want to go back to check on your territory at a time like this?" Qin Shuang raised an eyebrow slightly.

Zhou Yang yawned, his eyes revealing a pure languor.

"Can a title feed me? Or can a title extend my lifespan?"

He looked back at the bustling capital city.

The old order was collapsing, and new power was being reorganized. But for him, all of this was too exhausting.

He silently calculated the lifespan he had recently accumulated.

That would be enough for him to sleep until he naturally woke up every day for the next few decades, then find a quiet teahouse, look at the scenery outside the window, and drink a cup of fine Longjing tea.

As for the so-called "peerless evil god," that's just a script for outsiders.

He himself would prefer to be a wealthy man who has a lot of money, a long life, and is undisturbed.

The two rode away, their hooves striking the cobblestone pavement rhythmically.

Behind them, the legends about the "evil god" continue to circulate wildly. Some say he wants to rule the world, others say he wants to rebuild the martial arts world.

But only Zhou Yang knew that the only thing he wanted to do right now was to hurry home and finalize the land for the restaurant he had planned.

After all, in the career plan of the peerless evil god, opening a restaurant that can harvest the wallets of all the people in the martial arts world is the most brilliant way to control power.

A gentle breeze blew by, carrying away the hustle and bustle, leaving only a light and carefree figure disappearing into the distance at the edge of the city.

The echoes of the dragon's spine

As horses' hooves trod across the official road, the dust they kicked up gradually mingled with the earthy smell of soil.

The towering outline of the capital's city walls had completely disappeared behind us.

Zhou Yang stretched, his bones cracking slightly. He glanced back, his eyes showing no lingering affection.

"The air is so much better in the countryside," he said, sniffing the air with feigned delight. "At least you can't smell that fake perfume on those big shots."

Qin Shuang turned her head to look at him, the sunlight falling on her fair neck, making her look gentler.

"Your territory is only three hundred miles from the capital. It can hardly be considered the countryside."

"In my heart, as long as I don't have to worry about who wants to harm me every day, anywhere is the countryside," Zhou Yang said confidently.

His territory, or rather, the land Qin Shuang allocated to him, was not far ahead. A small town nestled against the mountains and beside the water, called Andu Town.

This place used to be a no-man's-land, a melting pot of all sorts of people. Now, a black flag hangs at the entrance of the town, with the character "Zhou" embroidered in gold thread on it.

The flag was small, but it was known to everyone in the entire Jianghuai region.

The flag didn't represent the Embroidered Uniform Guard, nor the imperial court. It represented a new set of rules—rules established with knives and silver.

When the two arrived at the town entrance, a tall, thin middle-aged man was already waiting there. He was wearing a faded blue cloth long gown and his hair was neatly combed.

"Lord Centurion, Lord Zhou." Qian Liu bowed respectfully. He was Zhou Yang's personally promoted accountant, responsible for managing everything in Andu Town.

"Mr. Qian, thank you for your hard work." Zhou Yang dismounted swiftly.

He tossed the reins to the guard beside him and headed straight into town.

"How's the security tax collection going this month?" he asked casually.

"Reporting to you, sir, we've collected them all." Qian Liu hurried a few steps to catch up, pulling a thin booklet from his pocket. "It's 30% more than last month. The newly opened taverns are doing extremely well."

Zhou Yang took the booklet and flipped through it casually.

The handwriting in the booklet was neat and the records were clear. It was easy to see which gang contributed how much and which shops on which streets contributed how much.

He saw the "Black Wind Village" column, followed by a bright red "Confiscation" character.

Zhou Yang's lips curled up slightly.

Black Wind Stronghold used to be a local tyrant in Andu Town, robbing people on the road and committing all sorts of evil deeds. After he arrived, he only did one thing.

They carried the head of the villager and hung it at the town entrance for three days.

Then he sent someone with a message, offering two choices: either pay taxes and join his rules, or go pay taxes to the King of Hell.

The Black Wind Village sent over their savings of ten years the very next day.

"Good." Zhou Yang closed the booklet and handed it back to Qian Liu. "Tell them to continue doing business peacefully. As long as they're on my turf, I'll keep them safe."

"Yes, sir." Qian Liu bowed and accepted the order.

To him, Lord Zhou's reasoning was simpler and more direct than the laws of the imperial court.

Zhou Yang didn't ask any more questions; he trusted his judgment in choosing people. He preferred to visit the construction site of his restaurant, which hadn't opened yet.

The foundation was laid, and the timber was piled up to the side. He walked around the foundation twice, gesturing and figuring out how to build the house and how to lay out the yard.

This is what interests him. Power and fame are all illusions. Only the house built on his own land and the money in his pocket are real.

Just as he was planning whether to dig a pond in his famous backyard to raise some fat fish, Qin Shuang arrived.

She didn't disturb Zhou Yang's "grand project," but simply stood quietly to the side.

Only after Zhou Yang had finished reading with satisfaction did she speak.

"There's news." She said in a low voice.

Zhou Yang turned around, the relaxation on his face slowly fading. He knew that the news Qin Shuang was referring to was definitely not about the bricks and tiles on the ground.

The two returned to the main house in town, a three-courtyard house that used to be the residence of the wealthiest local gentry.

Once inside the innermost secret room, Qin Shuang handed him a roll of letter paper.

The letter paper was thin, and the edges were charred, as if it had been through a fire.

"My spies risked their lives to bring back news from the capital," Qin Shuang said. "The emperor is searching for the Dragon Spine fragments."

Zhou Yang unfolded the letter; there weren't many words on it, but each one was like a nail.

"...Palace spies report that the imperial edict has been issued, dispatching three 'Heavenly Messengers' out of the capital to secretly investigate the whereabouts of the Dragon Spine fragments. Anyone with clues may be executed first and reported later..."

Heavenly Messenger.

Zhou Yang's eyes turned cold.

This is not the Embroidered Uniform Guard, not the Eastern Depot, and certainly not the Six Doors.

The Heavenly Secrets are the emperor's most secretive weapon, obeying only his commands. These individuals are highly skilled in martial arts, employ unpredictable methods, and their identities remain shrouded in mystery.

Their presence at this poker table signifies a change in the nature of the situation.

Previously, it was martial arts figures vying for this thing. Now, it's the man sitting on the dragon throne personally taking part in it.

"He really thinks highly of this piece of junk." Zhou Yang placed the letter over the candle flame, watching it slowly curl up and turn to ashes.

"The Dragon Spine is a fragment of a legendary divine weapon. No ruler would let such a thing go," Qin Shuang analyzed. "Especially you, who have already demonstrated its power. The emperor cannot help but be wary."

Zhou Yang didn't say anything.

He walked to the corner, moved a heavy bookcase, revealing a stone wall behind it. He pressed down several bricks in a specific order, and the stone wall silently opened inward.

Inside is an even smaller space.

He took a small wooden box out of his pocket.

The box was opened, but the pieces inside were not complete.

The dragon spine fragment had been completely shattered in the last battle. Only a pile of grayish-black powder and a small, fingernail-sized core, whose shape was still barely discernible, remained.

That's all he has left.

He poured out the powder and rubbed it between his fingers. The powder was very fine, with a metallic texture, yet it was very light.

He moved closer and examined the room carefully in the dim light.

He saw something right there in that tiny core.

It's not a scratch, nor a pattern.

It is a character.

The characters were carved so shallowly that they were almost invisible without careful attention. Each stroke was as fine as a hair.

Northern Desert Ruins - Fragment 1

Six words, like a bolt of lightning, cleaved through the fog in Zhou Yang's heart.

It turns out there's more than one of these things.

Moreover, the location is also marked on it.

The Northern Desert Ruins. He had heard of this place; it was located in the far north, where snow and wind raged year-round, and it was said to be the ruins of an ancient civilization, desolate and extremely dangerous.

Having found this place, at least we have a clear direction.

As he was pondering, a cold, emotionless notification sound suddenly rang in his mind.

He knew that voice all too well.

[System notification: Coordinates of the Dragon Spine Fragment core have been detected.]

[New feature available: Fragment location (basic).]

[Function Description: Consumes a specified amount of lifespan to display the approximate location of currently known fragments on the large map.]

Unlocking this feature requires 1000 years of lifespan.

[Unlock?]

Zhou Yang's breathing suddenly stopped.

A thousand years.

This number hit him like a boulder.

His total lifespan is only a little over three thousand years. This will cut off a third of it.

This deal was a huge loss.

He held the core of the fragment in his hand, feeling a cold touch on his fingertips.

Going to the Northern Desert is like finding a needle in a haystack. The place is too vast, and the wind and snow are enough to cover up all traces. Without guidance, even if he searched for ten years, he might not find anything.

But once location services are unlocked, it's like having a map.

A map obtained at the cost of lives.

He was silent.

The room was quiet, with only the crackling of the flickering candlelight.

Qin Shuang looked at his solemn expression but didn't ask. She knew Zhou Yang was making some kind of decision. A decision that outsiders couldn't interfere with.

Zhou Yang was making plans in his mind.

What does a lifespan of a thousand years mean?

This means that he could have lived a stable, wealthy, and leisurely life for most of his life.

Now, we need to exchange it for a one-way ticket to an unknown and dangerous place.

does it worth?

He thought of the celestial envoys sent by the emperor. He thought of the Heavenly Principle Sect masters who might be hiding in the shadows. He thought that in this vast world, there might never be another place for him to live a peaceful and wealthy life.

He doesn't seek trouble; trouble comes to him on its own.

Rather than passively waiting for someone to hold a knife to your throat, it's better to take the initiative and seize all the pieces in your hand first.

He opened his eyes, his gaze now devoid of any hesitation.

This deal isn't about whether it's worth it or not.

It must be done.

He stared at the illusory option in his mind and murmured a single word.

"Unlock".

Northern Desert Undercurrents

As the thought of "unlocking" crossed his mind, a burning sense of urgency instantly surged up Zhou Yang's spine. He knew that this was not just about activating an ability, but also about pushing himself into a more dangerous situation.

He stepped out of the room, and the wind outside carried a dry, earthy smell.

Qin Shuang stood in the courtyard, dressed in a black, close-fitting outfit, the long sword at her waist gleaming coldly in the morning light. She watched Zhou Yang emerge, her brows slightly raised, a hint of uncertainty in her voice: "Have you thought it through? The Northern Desert is a cesspool now; going in doesn't guarantee a safe return."

Zhou Yang didn't answer immediately. He walked to the stone table and tapped his fingers lightly on the surface, making a dull sound.

"Staying where you are and waiting to die, versus taking a gamble, I think the latter is more cost-effective." Zhou Yang looked up at her, a calm smile playing on his lips. "Besides, I have to take back what's rightfully mine."

Qin Shuang remained silent for a moment, then sighed softly, turned around and called out to the backyard, "Pass on my order: one hundred elite men, prepare immediately. Target: Northern Desert Ruins."

This unit was privately trained by Qin Shuang. Each member was like a poisoned dagger, requiring little verbal communication; a single glance was enough to understand what to do.

The sky was overcast on the day we set off.

On the third day of their march, the landscape began to turn desolate. On both sides stretched endless Gobi Desert, the wind whipping up yellow sand that stung their faces like needles.

Zhou Yang rode on his horse, his gaze sweeping across the distant horizon. Among the undulating sand dunes, several huge camel hair tents could be vaguely seen, typical of a desert caravan gathering place.

"Lord Zhou, that's a team from the 'Golden Camel Merchant Guild'," Qin Shuang whispered a reminder. "They control the only water supply line into the Northern Desert Ruins. If you want to make a safe journey, you need to make arrangements with them beforehand."

Zhou Yang chuckled lightly and greeted him.

In his dictionary, this kind of thing is usually called "value exchange".

He gestured for the troops to stop a hundred paces in front of the caravan, and then one of them rode forward on horseback.

The caravan leader was a middle-aged man who was as fat as a ball. He wore a wide silk robe, and despite being in the desert, he insisted on inlaying small gemstones into the robe, which looked particularly out of place.

"Sir, who are you?" The fat merchant squinted, his tone polite, but his eyes revealed a calculating glint.

Zhou Yang didn't waste any words and went straight to the point: "I'm from the Embroidered Uniform Guard. You haven't paid any 'road tax' for this route, have you?"

The portly merchant froze, then his face twitched as if he'd heard a joke: "Road tax? Sir, this northern desert is nothing but sandstorms and dead bodies. Where would we get road tax?"

Zhou Yang didn't dwell on the matter. He turned slightly and pointed to the row of elite Imperial Guards waiting silently behind him. Although the soldiers hadn't drawn their swords, the stench of blood emanating from them made the caravan's guards instinctively tighten their grip on their hilts.

"Now we have it." Zhou Yang's tone was calm, as if he were discussing the weather. "Each tent, each camel, and each load of goods will be charged two taels of silver. As for how to pay, you can choose to pay now, or wait for me to bring people to take all your camels away, and you can walk to the ruins."

The fat merchant's expression changed instantly. He opened his mouth, but after seeing Qin Shuang's icy gaze, he lowered his head in dejection.

The "deal" was done very quickly.

In the extreme environment of the desert, survival is the only truth. A businessman may be shrewd, but his shrewdness is useless in the face of absolute military superiority.

Twenty thousand taels of silver.

This is the supply money Zhou Yang "harvested" in this way during his journey. For him, this money is not for getting rich, but to have enough surplus to exchange for those key resources in the subsequent exploration of the ruins.

However, the peace was soon shattered.

When the group was still fifty miles from the entrance to the Beimo Ruins, they stopped at a dilapidated post station.

This place used to be a supply depot, but now it looks more like a slaughterhouse. Half of the inn's wall has collapsed, and several shriveled corpses are scattered on the ground, with flies buzzing around them.

"There's an ambush." ​​Qin Shuang's longsword instantly came out of its sheath, the tip pointing diagonally to the ground.

As soon as he finished speaking, the surrounding sand dunes suddenly seemed to come alive, and countless dark figures rushed out swiftly.

These people wore rough leather armor, their faces were painted with strange red paint, and they held curved machetes. Their roars sounded particularly jarring in the empty desert.

"They're pirates from the desert!" a soldier exclaimed.

The enemy force numbered at least three hundred, instantly surrounding Zhou Yang's elite troops.

The bandit leader was a burly man who rode a skinny black horse and wore a crimson-gold token at his waist, which gleamed in the sunlight.

"The Embroidered Uniform Guard? It's great to find you here!" The leader grinned maliciously, swinging his giant axe. "Cut off their heads and give them to the gatekeeper of the ruins for the bounty!"

Faced with the overwhelming charge, Zhou Yang not only did not retreat, but instead slowly drew the heavy longsword from behind his back.

His eyes turned unusually cold at that moment, and in his mind, the ability he had previously unlocked was in a state of extreme activity.

He felt his lifespan rapidly ticking away, like a finely crafted hourglass, each passing second granting him a perception beyond the ordinary.

"It's noisy."

Zhou Yang muttered something under his breath.

He didn't use any complicated moves; he simply swung his arm lightly when his opponent was three steps away from him.

That strike made no sound of air being cut, nor did it stir up a cloud of yellow sand.

But just as the long sword sliced ​​through the air, the surrounding space seemed to be forcibly cut open by an invisible pair of scissors.

A nearly transparent slit flashed through the air.

The next scene plunged everyone into a deathly silence.

The dozen or so bandits at the forefront suddenly had clean cuts appear on their bodies without any warning. They didn't even realize what was happening; they were sliced ​​in half in mid-air, blood gushing out like a fountain, staining the yellow sand beneath their feet red.

This is not simply about speed, but about the direct stripping away of space.

"A spatial rift..." Qin Shuang exclaimed in a low voice from behind.

This level of attack has completely deviated from the realm of martial arts and entered a forbidden area.

The bandit leader's smile froze on his face as he stared in horror at the fact that a section of his arm had vanished without his notice. The cut was so clean it was horrifying, and even the blood seemed to bleed out a beat late.

Before he could even scream, Zhou Yang's figure had already appeared in front of him.

Zhou Yang lightly touched the tip of his knife to his throat, the movement as graceful as painting.

"Give me the token."

The leader slumped on his horse, his eyes filled with fear, and he trembled as he handed over the crimson gold talisman from his waist.

Zhou Yang took the token, casually put it in his pocket, and then waved to the Imperial Guards behind him.

"Clean thoroughly, leave no survivors."

Half an hour later, the battlefield was quickly cleaned up.

Zhou Yang walked to the entrance of the Northern Desert Ruins. It was a huge stone gate, covered with twisted runes, exuding an unsettling gray aura.

In the center of the stone gate, there is a recessed groove whose shape perfectly matches the red gold talisman.

"This is the sealing array." Zhou Yang looked at the door, his fingers gently stroking the cold stone.

He could sense a powerful fluctuation hidden behind the door, which was the core objective of his mission—the Dragon Spine Fragment.

Without hesitation, he directly stuffed the crimson gold talisman into the slot.

With a heavy roar, the runes on the stone gate turned from gray to red, and the originally tightly closed giant gate slowly opened to both sides amidst the enormous tremor.

A musty smell that had been building up for hundreds of years wafted over, mixed with a faint stench of blood.

Zhou Yang stepped into the shadows and glanced back at Qin Shuang.

"Let's go see how much money we can make on this deal."

Broken Seal

The door opened.

Zhou Yang, holding a torch, stepped inside first. Qin Shuang followed closely behind, her embroidered spring knife already half an inch from its sheath at her waist, her knuckles slightly white as she gripped it.

The space behind the door was larger than I had imagined. The air was filled with the smell of rust and decaying earth, like an ancient battlefield where weapons had been buried for centuries had been unearthed. The firelight flickered, but it could only illuminate a three-zhang (approximately 10 meters) area in front of me; the darkness beyond was so thick that it seemed to devour the light as if it were alive.

Beneath my feet lay a floor paved with bluestone slabs, thick dust accumulating in the cracks, making each step feel soft and yielding. The walls, also constructed of massive stones, were covered in slippery moss, with water droplets clinging to them in places, dripping onto the ground with a crisp "tap, tap." In this deathly silence, the sound was particularly jarring.

The entire stone chamber was structured like an inverted giant bowl. They stood on the rim of the bowl, a narrow staircase spiraling downwards, leading to the darkness at the center. The staircase was only wide enough for one person to pass at a time, and the handrails on both sides were covered in dust, clearly untouched for a long time.

"Stay close," Zhou Yang said in a low voice, his voice echoing slightly in the empty stone chamber.

Instead of going down immediately, he first walked around the rim of the bowl to get a general idea of ​​the situation. The stone chamber was intact, with no other forks in the road; the only way out was the stone door behind them and the stairs leading to the center.

He stopped, his gaze fixed on the deepest darkness. He could sense the faint, persistent fluctuation emanating from below. It was the fragment of the Dragon Spine.

"Let's go."

This time, he didn't waste any more words and went straight up the downward steps.

The stairs were long, winding for at least a hundred steps. The deeper one went, the stronger the stench of blood became in the air. It wasn't fresh blood, but a metallic rust that had seeped into the cracks of the stones over countless years.

Finally, the stairs came to an end.

A flat, circular clearing appeared before them. In the very center of the clearing stood a stone tablet three zhang tall. The tablet was made of a peculiar material, neither gold nor jade, but entirely black, its surface covered with cracked patterns, resembling a piece of charcoal.

There are no words on the stone tablet.

Or rather, Zhou Yang couldn't understand those characters. They were tadpole-like runes, crookedly crawling all over the surface of the stele, looking chaotic yet faintly exuding an ancient and desolate rhythm.

Qin Shuang stepped forward, frowning, and asked, "What is this?"

"I don't know." Zhou Yang shook his head. He walked slowly around the stone tablet, the firelight illuminating the strange runes, which seemed to wriggle slightly in the light and shadow. "But I feel that this thing is the key."

He reached out and gently stroked the cold surface of the monument with his fingers.

The instant his fingertips touched the runes, a massive surge of information rushed into his mind. It wasn't language, nor images, but a pure, domineering infusion of information.

His brain seemed to have turned into a dry sponge, frantically absorbing these sudden things.

hum!

Zhou Yang's vision went black, and he stumbled, almost falling to his knees. Qin Shuang reacted quickly and immediately caught his arm.

"What's wrong with you?"

"It's nothing." Zhou Yang waved his hand, a fine layer of cold sweat already seeping from his forehead. He took a breath, his eyes filled with a hint of fear and confusion.

In that brief moment, he "saw" many things. A snow-covered valley, a biting wind, and a giant beast howling in the snow. In the end, all the images coalesced into three words.

A secluded, cold valley.

He raised his head and looked at the stone tablet again. At this moment, the tadpole-shaped runes had completely changed in his eyes, forming a sentence that he could understand.

"The second part of the dragon's spine is hidden in a secluded, cold valley."

So that's how it is. This stone tablet isn't some kind of mechanism or seal; it's more like... a beacon, a recorder of clues. The people who built this place, after obtaining the first fragment, left the clue to the second fragment here.

"What does it say?" Qin Shuang asked, seeing that his expression had returned to normal.

Zhou Yang hesitated for a moment, then decided to tell the truth. Some things, if kept from Qin Shuang, would only make things worse. His relationship with her had long since transcended the simple employer-employee dynamic.

"The location of the second dragon spine fragment."

Qin Shuang's pupils contracted sharply, and her grip on the knife tightened again: "Where?"

"The Valley of the Deep Cold." Zhou Yang uttered the name, quickly searching his memory. The Northern Desert was vast, and he had never heard of this place before. It didn't sound like a good place at all.

Just then, the voice he both loved and hated rang out in his mind.

【Ding! 】

[Key Clue Detected: 'Dragon Spine Fragment II - The Valley of the Dark']

Activate the "Causal Chain" quest

[Mission Requirements: The host must obtain 'Dragon Spine Fragment II' within thirty natural days]

[Quest Reward: Unlocks refining privileges for 'Dragonspine Fragment 1', which can greatly improve the fragment's quality and power.]

[Failure Penalty: Permanently lose the qualification to refine 'Dragon Spine Fragment One'; the fragment will be causally severed from the host, and its effects will be greatly weakened.]

Zhou Yang's face instantly darkened.

motherfucker.

When has this system ever done anything good without any strings attached? It gives you a little treat, but there's always a huge pitfall behind it.

Thirty days.

A secluded, cold valley.

The combination of these two words was like a heavy hammer, slamming into his chest.

He looked at Qin Shuang, his tone turning somber: "We might be in a bit of trouble."

He briefly explained the system's prompt. Qin Shuang listened, her brows furrowing, and remained silent. She knew very well how important the Dragon Spine Fragment was to Zhou Yang. It was the foundation of his livelihood, the source of his confidence to challenge the entire world. Now, that confidence had an expiration date, and a very short one at that.

"Where is the Valley of the Coldest Desolation?" Qin Shuang asked the most crucial question.

"I don't know," Zhou Yang admitted frankly, "but there will always be a way to find out." He looked around, his gaze finally settling on the black stone tablet.

Since it's a clue, there can't be just one place name.

He walked back to the stone tablet. This time, he didn't touch it with his hands. Instead, he channeled his inner energy and carefully examined every inch of the tablet. Sure enough, on the back of the tablet, the side against the wall, he discovered something unusual.

It was a carved map.

The map was very rudimentary, with only a few winding lines and some blurry marks, but it clearly indicated the location. The Valley of the Coldest Desolation was located in the far north of the Northern Desert, bordering the legendary territory of the Yeti tribe; it was a desolate area covered in ice and snow year-round.

Starting from where they are now, even traveling at full speed, day and night, it would take at least twenty days for them to make it one way.

This doesn't even include the time spent searching for the fragments themselves.

A thirty-day deadline is almost an impossible task.

Zhou Yang's expression grew increasingly grim. He felt as if he had been tricked by an invisible businessman. The other party had presented an enticing deal, only to reveal a horribly restrictive timeframe after he had invested all his savings.

A way out? There is none.

He was now in a bind. If he gave up, all the sacrifices he had made for the first fragment, including the lifespan he had burned, would be for nothing. He would even have to bear the backlash of the fragment's weakened effect.

No matter how you look at it, this is a losing proposition.

"I have no choice but to take a gamble." Zhou Yang took a deep breath, and the struggle in his eyes quickly faded, replaced by a ruthless determination when he was driven to the brink.

"A bet?" Qin Shuang looked at him.

"Yes, we'll gamble." Zhou Yang's lips curled into a cold smile. "We'll gamble that we can get from this godforsaken place to Youhan Valley within thirty days and then get our hands on the fragment. We'll gamble that our lives are tougher than these damned system rules."

He turned around, no longer looking at the stone tablet, and strode back up the steps he had come from.

"Let's leave here first. After dawn, we'll go to 'Black Wind Pass,' the largest market in the Northern Desert. There, you won't find any information you can't buy, only prices you can't afford."

His voice carried an undeniable determination. Since the rules were already set, the only option was to fight tooth and nail to win within those rules.

Qin Shuang watched his retreating figure with a complex expression. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but in the end, she simply gripped the embroidered spring knife in her hand and followed him.

The torchlight flickered on the steps, casting long shadows of the two people into the darkness behind them.

The black stone tablet, which had stood for countless years, returned to its deathly silence. The tadpole-shaped runes on its surface seemed to wriggle slightly again after the firelight had completely died down, as if mocking the two intruders who were about to embark on a perilous journey.

Chapter 691 The First Round of Harvesting of Security Tax (Building Strength - Closed Loop of Jianghu Rules - Building Strength)

The sand and dust in the northern desert swirled in the strong winds, obscuring half the sky.

Zhou Yang, mounted on his horse, lazily yawned. He glanced back at Qin Shuang, who was following behind him. The embroidered spring knife at her waist trembled slightly in the wind, a sign that she was not in a good mood.

Although they successfully retrieved the fragments from the underground palace, the effort was immense. Zhou Yang felt as if a portion of his lifespan had been drained away in that instant, leaving him with a lingering sense of depletion and weakness.

This feeling brought his need for money to its peak.

In his view, lifespan can be burned, but in this chaotic world, money is the best lubricant.

"The view is best from that mountain pass ahead," Zhou Yang pointed to a narrow valley entrance not far away.

It was the only way to enter several surrounding towns. The road was narrow, with steep red rocks on both sides, and caravans had to pass one at a time.

Qin Shuang frowned, her tone calm: "What are you doing here?"

Zhou Yang's lips curled into a slight smile as he pulled a rough piece of yellow paper from his pocket. On it, several words were written in large characters: Security Checkpoint.

"This place is too chaotic, with many bandits. Merchants are most afraid of being robbed on the way." Zhou Yang patted the saddle. "Since they are afraid, we will provide them with 'safety'."

Qin Shuang didn't speak, but her eyes revealed a scrutinizing look. She had followed Zhou Yang for a while and knew that this man's logic was very simple—as long as there was profit involved, he could portray extortion as redemption.

Zhou Yang wasted no time. He directed his men to quickly set up several simple wooden fences at the entrance of the valley and erect a wooden sign in the most conspicuous place.

The wooden sign reads: Security checkpoint. Taxes must be paid to pass through. No credit allowed.

The first caravan appeared half an hour later.

It was a fairly large caravan of salt merchants, consisting of about twenty oxcarts, guarded at both ends by men with long knives at their waists and tense expressions.

The leading merchant was a middle-aged, plump man dressed in a long silk robe, who, despite being in the northern desert, still maintained a very respectable appearance.

When the caravan was stopped at the wooden fence, the fat merchant waved his hand impatiently and shouted, "What checkpoint? This is the main road! Who gave you the right to block our way?"

Zhou Yang was sitting on a small bamboo stool, toying with a fragment of a dragon's spine in his hand. Without looking up, he replied, "There are no officials here now, only rules. The rule is that if you want to pass through safely, you have to pay money."

The fat merchant was stunned, then sneered and looked at the guards behind him: "Take care of these thugs for me."

Just as the guards were about to step forward, Qin Shuang suddenly took a step forward.

She didn't draw her sword, but simply flicked the Imperial Guard badge from her waist outwards.

The black and gold waist tag flashed with a cold light in the sunlight.

The portly merchant's expression instantly changed, from anger to terror. Although he was a merchant, he knew what the name "Jinyiwei" meant. In the Northern Desert, the Jinyiwei's blades were swift, and they killed without reason.

"My lord..." The fat merchant's voice suddenly lowered, and he bent over.

Zhou Yang then slowly stood up, walked to the fat merchant, and whispered in his ear, "Two hundred taels per cart. Not only will it allow you to leave, but it will also guarantee that you won't encounter any other 'blind' bandits on the next ten miles."

The fat merchant nodded tremblingly and quickly ordered his men to transfer money from the ledger.

Two thousand taels of silver fell into Zhou Yang's pocket so easily.

For the next three days, this temporary checkpoint became a "scenic spot" on the road to the northern desert.

Zhou Yang was not so greedy as to make it impossible for merchants to continue operating. He adopted a tiered pricing method: fifty taels for small businesses and one thousand taels for large businesses.

Moreover, he was very good at psychological warfare. Whenever a caravan finished paying, he would casually point them to a faster shortcut or tell them which mountain bandits were lurking nearby.

This "well-intentioned" advice led many businessmen, after being extorted, to feel that Zhou Yang was a righteous person.

This contradictory mindset made the tax collection process surprisingly smooth.

On the evening of the fourth day, Zhou Yang sat in front of the account book, looking at the thick stack of silver notes and heavy silver ingots, and did some mental calculations.

A total of 15,000 taels.

This money is not for him to squander at the moment, but a necessary investment.

Although the Dragon Spine Fragment was obtained, its special material made it impossible for ordinary blacksmiths to process. Forcing it would only destroy the fragment.

He needs a "fragment alloy" that can withstand high temperatures and has a certain toughness as a base, and the development of such a material requires extremely high-cost materials.

"Go and invite that blacksmith from Black Iron," Zhou Yang ordered.

Black Iron Blacksmith is an eccentric old man who is said to have been hiding in the Northern Desert for many years. He is proficient in ancient forging methods, but he is extremely greedy for money and refuses to take any work from the government.

When the old man with a full beard and arm muscles as hard as rock was brought to the checkpoint, he looked at Zhou Yang with disdain in his eyes.

"You want me to do it?" The blacksmith's voice was like sandpaper. "That depends on how much you're willing to pay."

Without wasting any words, Zhou Yang slammed three thousand taels of silver onto the table, making a dull thud.

"Three thousand taels as a deposit. If I can produce the alloy I want, I'll give you another three thousand taels."

The old blacksmith looked at the silver, a glint of greed flashing in his eyes. He reached out and touched the fragment sample Zhou Yang had handed him, and the moment his fingers touched it, his eyes narrowed sharply.

He realized that this thing was incomparable to ordinary weapons.

"This job requires a mixture of Arctic iron and red gold dust, and you'll have to pay for the materials," the old blacksmith said in a low voice.

"Money is not a problem, as long as the product can be made," Zhou Yang said calmly.

Under this logic of equivalent exchange, the blacksmith became a pawn in Zhou Yang's game in this region.

Meanwhile, Qin Shuang was not idle.

She did not express any disgust towards Zhou Yang's extortionate behavior; on the contrary, she quickly "legalized" it.

In the nearest major city they entered, Qin Shuang, in the name of a centurion of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, posted a notice on the most bustling notice board in the city center.

The announcement was written in a very sophisticated manner: "Recently, the security situation in the Northern Desert has been chaotic. In order to ensure the smooth flow of trade routes, the Imperial Palace has specially established a temporary security tax. All proceeds will be handed over to the Imperial Palace to strengthen border patrols and protect the people."

Upon seeing this announcement, the city's wealthy businessmen began to discuss it.

Some people think this is the imperial court exploiting the people, but many others think that if it can really bring absolute security, paying this amount of money is actually acceptable.

Especially when they heard that as long as they paid the security tax, they would receive some kind of "tacit approval" or "care" from the Imperial Guards on their journey, this tax actually became a privilege.

Zhou Yang felt a subtle resonance as he watched Qin Shuang handle everything.

He originally thought Qin Shuang was just a tool to carry out orders, but now it seems that her talent in political maneuvering and manipulation is no less than his.

She was helping him launder money, while at the same time helping him build a legitimate power loop.

The so-called security tax, ostensibly given to the imperial palace, was actually precisely controlled by Zhou Yang and kept in his own pocket.

From the outside perspective, this was nothing more than a normal administrative deployment by the Embroidered Uniform Guard in the northern desert.

Night has fallen, and the wind has stopped.

Zhou Yang stood outside the tent, gazing at the silent wasteland in the distance. He weighed a silver ingot repeatedly in his hand, then suddenly looked at Qin Shuang.

"Tell me, if one day we set up checkpoints on every road in the world, how much money could we collect?"

Qin Shuang was sitting under the lamp organizing official documents. Without looking up, she replied, "At that time, you won't be collecting taxes, you'll be rebelling."

Zhou Yang chuckled and put the silver ingot back into his pocket.

Rebellion was too tiring; he just wanted to live longer and live a more enjoyable life.

He turned and walked into the tent, the virtual interface about lifespan flashing in his mind again. He knew that with the forging of the fragment alloy, the strength he could exchange for would experience a surge.

This so-called "security tax" was merely his first attempt to extend his lifespan.

In this cannibalistic world, the most stable order is always built upon absolute control over interests.

He lay on the bed, closed his eyes, and the trembling voices of the caravans as they faced their waist tokens still echoed in his ears.

That's power at work, and money roaring.