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

Sunlight streamed through the window paper, casting a grayish-white glow.

Zhou Yang opened his eyes; the room was quiet. He stretched his limbs, his joints making a soft cracking sound. The true energy in his dantian surged continuously, carrying a warm current that flowed throughout his body. The power of the late-stage True Energy Realm was indeed incomparable to what he had experienced before.

He didn't stay in the room long. He put on his familiar Jinyiwei captain's uniform, washed his face, splashed cold water on his face, and the last bit of sleepiness disappeared.

The King of Zhao's secret must be turned into leverage as soon as possible.

He didn't take a carriage, but walked through the still quiet streets and alleys of the early morning. The steam from the steamed bun shops and the cries of the breakfast stalls made him feel grounded. This capital city, seemingly prosperous, was a trap lurking beneath his feet. One wrong step could lead to utter ruin.

He liked this feeling.

Danger is what means high reward.

The air in the Northern Garrison Command is always cold. It's not a cold of low temperature, but a cold that seeps into your very bones. The musty smell of files, the lingering scent of ink, and a faint, almost imperceptible stench of blood blend together to create a unique aroma that belongs only to this place.

When Zhou Yang pushed open the door to Qin Shuang's office, she was sitting behind her desk, engrossed in reading a file.

Today she wore a dark blue outfit, her hair was tied up with a simple wooden hairpin, and the lines of her profile were clean and sharp, like a drawn sword.

Hearing the noise, she looked up. Her gaze was like two awls, piercing straight at her.

"You've come." Her voice was flat.

"I'm here." Zhou Yang casually closed the door, walked to the chair opposite her, but didn't sit down. He just rested his hand on the back of the chair. "Business has come knocking."

Qin Shuang put down the file and placed her hands, crossed, on the table. "Speak."

"King Zhao," Zhou Yang uttered slowly, "He's been busy with a major matter lately. A matter that could cost him his head."

Qin Shuang's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. "What did he do?"

"He stole something." Zhou Yang twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing half of his teeth. His smile was anything but friendly. "It wasn't gold or silver, it wasn't an antique, it was a Buddha relic."

The room fell silent instantly.

The air seemed to freeze.

Qin Shuang's hand holding the brush suddenly paused. The tip of the exquisite wolf-hair brush spread a blot of ink on the rice paper, like a black flower that had suddenly bloomed.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was low, with a hint of tension that was hard to detect.

"My men pried it out of the mouth of the Prince of Zhao," Zhou Yang said calmly. "That relic was originally enshrined in Fahua Temple outside the city. Half a month ago, Fahua Temple reported that the relic had been stolen. The government investigated for a long time but couldn't find any clues, and in the end, the matter was dropped."

He paused for a moment, looking into Qin Shuang's eyes.

"Now I know where it is. It's in the secret chamber of the Prince Zhao's mansion."

Buddha's bone relics.

The weight of those four words is immense. Especially in this era of Buddhist devotion, the theft of sacred artifacts offered by the royal family, and by a prince no less. This is no longer a simple case, but irrefutable evidence of treason. What does the Prince of Zhao intend to do with it? To collude with a certain prince? Or to use it to win over the Buddhist factions in the court?

Neither of these is something the emperor can tolerate.

Qin Shuang fell silent. She wasn't doubting Zhou Yang's words, but rather rapidly weighing the pros and cons of the situation. This pool of water was too deep; once you reached in, you could never get out.

"What do you want?" she asked. This was their way of getting along. Direct, straightforward, and without any unnecessary words.

"I'm going to lead this case." Zhou Yang finally pulled out a chair, sat down, leaned forward, and placed his hands on the table. "I'm going to be the knife that cuts down. Your people, cooperate with me. All manpower, all resources, are at my command."

"You?" A hint of sarcasm appeared on Qin Shuang's lips for the first time. "A mere captain?"

"A mere captain can provide you with evidence of King Zhao's crimes." Zhou Yang met her gaze without backing down. "Commander Qin, we've worked together for so long, you should understand. A capable person is more useful than someone with an official title. Besides..."

He laughed, with that familiar money-grubbing smirk.

"If this deal goes through, the biggest credit will go to you, Commander of the Northern Garrison. I'm just an errand boy. But my head is valuable. I'll naturally get extra pay for my work."

Qin Shuang stared at him for a long time.

So long that the light outside the window became a bit brighter.

"Okay," she uttered.

She stood up, walked to the wall, and took down the embroidered spring knife.

"You can use any of my people. But if anything goes wrong, I have to clear myself of any wrongdoing."

"Of course." Zhou Yang stood up, his smile widening. "I'll take the risks, and you'll share the credit. That's a good deal."

"Let's go to Fahua Temple now." Qin Shuang hung the knife back on her waist. "Let's start investigating from the source."

"I'd be happy to help."

Fahua Temple was located in the western suburbs of the capital and was a popular place of worship. However, when Qin Shuang arrived on horseback with Zhou Yang and a team of elite Imperial Guards, the temple gate was quiet.

It's too quiet.

At this time of day, the area in front of the mountain gate would usually be crowded with worshippers coming to offer incense, and the cries of vendors and cart drivers would fill the air.

But today, there's no one here.

The vermilion mountain gate was tightly closed, with only two stone lions standing silently in the morning light at the entrance.

"Something's not right." Qin Shuang dismounted, her hand already on the hilt of her sword.

Zhou Yang also dismounted. He twitched his nose.

The scent of incense in the air was faint, almost imperceptible. Instead, there was a strong medicinal smell. Mixed with something else, I can't quite put my finger on it, but it was very unpleasant.

"Knock on the door," Qin Shuang ordered the captain behind her.

The captain stepped forward and patted the door knocker heavily.

"Thump, thump, thump."

The sound echoed in front of the empty mountain gate, carrying far and wide.

There was no response from inside.

Qin Shuang's face darkened. She gestured to another captain, and the two exchanged a glance before simultaneously kicking the door.

With a loud bang, the two heavy wooden doors were kicked open.

The scene behind the door stunned everyone.

In the courtyard, more than a dozen people lay sprawled out. They were all monks from the temple, along with some worshippers. They weren't dead, but they lay on the ground, their faces bluish, as if they had been poisoned, or perhaps they were asleep.

The entire temple was like a dead city.

"Careful, it's poisonous!" Qin Shuang immediately covered her mouth and nose with a handkerchief.

Zhou Yang didn't move. His gaze was fixed on the center of the courtyard.

There was only one monk there, sweeping the floor.

He swept slowly and meticulously, seemingly oblivious to everything around him, and completely unaware of the group of Imperial Guards who had barged in.

He was dressed in a gray monk's robe and was tall. The sunlight shone on him, but he cast no shadow.

No, it's not that there's no shadow.

His shadow stretched long and faint on the ground, shapeless, like a splash of ink, wriggling slightly on the bluestone slab.

Zhou Yang's pupils suddenly contracted.

He has seen many masters and also many strange things.

But this is the first time something like this has happened.

That's not a person.

Or rather, they can no longer be called "human".

"Who are you?" Qin Shuang's voice was as cold as ice, and her embroidered spring knife was already half an inch out of its sheath.

The sweeping monk stopped what he was doing.

He slowly raised his head.

It was an expressionless face, with grayish-white skin, like a stone that hadn't seen the light of day for a long time.

His eyes had no pupils, only a chaotic gray-white.

He looked at Zhou Yang, or rather, he looked at the power within Zhou Yang's body.

Then he spoke. His voice was dry, like two stones rubbing against each other.

"Buddha...said...let go..."