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

Zhou Yang's figure blended into the night.

He didn't take the main road, but instead chose to wander through the secluded and narrow alleys. The wind, carrying the smell of fish, blew from the bend in the river, stinging his cheeks. He had long since taken off his Jinyiwei (Imperial Guard) uniform and put on a faded, coarse cloth outfit, his hair haphazardly tied back with strips of cloth.

At this moment, he was just like the most common unemployed person in Anyang City.

No one will give it a second glance.

This is the ultimate form of disguise. It's not about wearing a mask, but about becoming part of the background.

Qin Shuang's map was very detailed. Several strongholds of the Heavenly Principle Sect in the city were circled with cinnabar. One of them was marked with the words "Treasury," hidden under a pawnshop in the south of the city.

Zhou Yang's steps were very steady.

Each step he took on the bluestone slabs made no extra sound. The world he saw was already different from that of ordinary people.

That was the new ability granted to him by the bronze dragon bone—"Eye of the Array".

In his vision, countless subtle currents flowed through the air. Inside the walls, faint lines outlined the contours of runes. He could see the hidden restrictions and formations, the weak points of energy. The entire city, in his eyes, transformed into a crisscrossing net.

He followed this net, avoiding all the overt and covert sentries.

In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, he stood at the back door of the "Tongyuan Pawnshop." It was a drafty corner, the air heavy and musty. The pawnshop had long since closed, the door bolted shut from the inside, and it was pitch black.

Zhou Yang narrowed his eyes.

Within the eye of the array, deep beneath the pawnshop, a faint light pulsed slowly. That was the core of the array. Surrounding the core were several thin streams of energy, like protective chains.

He walked around the pawnshop, finally stopping at an inconspicuous corner. He stretched out his finger, the tip touching the seam between the bricks. His array eye precisely detected a faint energy fluctuation there.

This is the weakest point in the entire defensive formation.

Zhou Yang pulled a thin steel wire from his pocket. It wasn't some kind of magical weapon, just ordinary iron wire. He gently inserted the wire into the crack between the bricks, and with a slight movement of his wrist, he traced the flow of energy along its path.

His movements were slow, as if he were embroidering.

The steel wire travels through the wall, pausing briefly at each point of penetration to feel the internal structure.

"Click."

A very slight, crisp sound.

It's like a thin string inside has broken.

Before Zhou Yang's eyes, one of the energy chains that had been wrapped around the ball of light beneath the pawnshop disappeared instantly.

He didn't stop.

Continue with the second one, the third one...

Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. This not only tested his eyesight but also his mental focus. A high degree of concentration was required to insert the steel wire into the correct position and cut off the energy transmission.

About fifteen minutes later.

"Click."

The final crisp sound rang out.

The pulsating light deep underground, like a candle flame without a lampshade, flickered suddenly and dimmed considerably.

Zhou Yang retracted the steel wire and gently exhaled.

He walked to the back door, placed his palm on the door panel, and slowly applied pressure.

"Squeak—"

He pushed the heavy door open silently. The latch inside, as if melted by something, broke in two and fell to the ground.

A musty smell wafted over.

Zhou Yang slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

The pawnshop was pitch black, with dust floating in the air. He could smell the mixture of old planks and stale ink. He didn't light a lamp; the array's eye allowed him to see clearly even in the dark.

He bypassed the cluttered front hall and found the secret passage leading underground.

The entrance is right under the counter, on an inconspicuous floor tile.

He lifted the floor tiles, revealing a cold, damp staircase leading downwards. Without hesitation, he stepped down. It was darker and colder down there than up. Water droplets seeped from the walls, dripping softly.

After climbing about thirty steps, the view suddenly opened up before me.

This is a spacious basement. In the center of the basement, there is no gold or silver jewelry, only a table and a few bookshelves.

An oil lamp was lit on the table, its light dim and dim.

A gaunt old man was dozing behind a table. He looked like an accountant, dressed in a gray cloth robe, his eyelids drooping as if they might fall off at any moment.

But in Zhou Yang's eyes, this old man's body contained a pure internal force. His breathing was long and deep, like a sleeping dragon, definitely not that of an ordinary man.

The guardians of the Heavenly Principle Sect.

Zhou Yang stopped at the top of the steps and did not go down.

He looked at the account book on the table. It was a thick book covered in cowhide. This was exactly what he wanted.

He did not choose to launch a sneak attack.

A direct confrontation is not his style. That's the work of a brute.

He took a small porcelain bottle from his pocket and uncorked it. Inside was a colorless and odorless liquid. He held the bottle opening to the stair railing and flicked it gently.

A few drops of liquid shot out, landed on the wooden handrail, and instantly seeped in and disappeared.

After doing all this, he turned around and quietly retreated back into the secret passage.

He stood in the backyard of the pawnshop, his back to the entrance of the secret passage, and took out an oil paper package from his pocket. Inside were two freshly baked meat buns, still warm.

He ate slowly.

He has to wait.

Wait for the medicine inside to take effect.

The medicine was made from a formula he found in the secret chamber of the observatory, and it was called "Muscle-Softening Powder." It was colorless and odorless, but when heated, it would produce a special kind of smoke. Those who inhaled it would not be poisoned immediately, but would feel weakness in their limbs and difficulty circulating their internal energy after half an hour.

The old accountant, smelling the aroma of the steamed buns, gradually fell asleep.

Half an hour later, Zhou Yang returned to the basement.

The oil lamp has been extinguished.

The old man was slumped over the table, fast asleep, his mouth slightly open, emitting soft snores. His breathing was heavy, carrying a faint, unpleasant odor.

Zhou Yang walked to the table and picked up the leather ledger.

He turned to a few pages.

The writing on it was done with a special potion, appearing as a blank page to the average person. But under the eye of the array, the hidden writing emerged clearly, one by one.

The accounts were kept in great detail.

Every single payment, its source, and its destination are clearly marked.

The Prefect of Anyang, three thousand taels.

City Defense Battalion Commandant, 2,500 taels.

The owner of Wang's Teahouse earns five hundred taels of silver per month.

There are even more...

Commander Chen, one thousand taels.

Each transaction was followed by a code, an item, or a person's name. This clearly indicates the underground network of the Heavenly Principle Sect in Anyang.

Zhou Yang's lips curled up.

Having this thing is equivalent to holding the lifeline of half of Anyang's officialdom in one hand.

He quickly stuffed the account book into his pocket, not even glancing at the gold and silver treasures. Those things were too hot to handle and too cumbersome. What he wanted was a wrench that could stir up trouble.

He turned and left, the old man still fast asleep behind him.

Next stop: Wang's Teahouse.

This is the Heavenly Principle Sect's intelligence hub in Anyang. Countless messages are gathered here every day and then distributed.

Zhou Yang arrived at the entrance of an alley opposite the teahouse and hid in the shadows.

The teahouse was still lit, and shadowy figures moved about in the windows on the second floor. Waiters were busy inside and out, while customers drank tea and chatted.

But he knew that most of these people were followers of the Heavenly Principle Sect.

He needs to create chaos.

A chaotic scene where they started fighting amongst themselves.

Zhou Yang took a deep breath, and the faint light in his eyes shone again. This time, he didn't try to sense the array, but instead began to manipulate the light in front of him.

Another ability of the Eye of the Array is to distort light.

He stretched out his finger and gently tapped a window on the second floor of the teahouse.

The light from the lantern by the window suddenly refracted.

The figure that was originally reflected in the window had its head and body separated, making it look like a headless ghost.

Inside the teahouse.

A waiter carrying a tea tray caught a glimpse of the window out of the corner of his eye, and his hand trembled so much that he almost dropped the tea tray.

"A ghost...a ghost!"

He cried out in surprise.

All the guests looked at him, and then followed his gaze to the window.

A figure flashed past the window, and then everything was gone.

"What are you yelling about!" a burly customer shouted.

The waiter, his face pale, pointed out the window: "Just now... just now there really was! A head rolled over there!"

"Get the hell out of here! You're drunk and talking nonsense!"

The other guests also joined in the laughter.

But the teahouse owner, a seemingly gentle middle-aged man, suddenly sharpened his gaze. He coughed and gave a wink to a man under the table.

The man stood up, walked over to the waiter, and whispered, "Shut up, don't disturb everyone's tea."

The waiter wanted to say something, but was glared at fiercely by the man, so he could only shut his mouth in grievance.

The seeds of chaos have been sown.

Zhou Yang did not stop.

His fingers flicked again.

This time, he caused a guest in a private room on the second floor who was pouring tea to suddenly have his hand reach out and grab the person next to him by the neck.

The guest in the next private room happened to turn around and his pupils suddenly contracted.

"Zhang San, what the hell are you trying to do?"

The guest, who was being "choked" by the shadow, looked completely bewildered: "I didn't do anything!"

"I saw your shadow on someone's neck with my own eyes! And you still want to deny it!"

"Which eye did you see that with? You must be seeing things!"

"My eyes are sharper than snow!"

With a light tap of his fingertips, Zhou Yang created a play of light and shadow.

A customer's teacup suddenly flipped over in mid-air, spilling tea squarely onto the face of the customer opposite him.

"Damn it! You're asking for it!"

The guest who had his tea spilled flew into a rage and kicked the person who had been splashed with it.

A fight broke out instantly.

The table was overturned, and the teapot shattered on the floor. Curses, shouts, and the sounds of fists and kicks mingled together.

The shopkeeper's face turned ashen; he tried to stop him, but he could no longer control himself.

Seeing that the time was almost right, Zhou Yang flicked the light with his fingers once again.

He twisted the plate in a waiter's hand into a blurry knife-like shape.

The waiter was frantically dodging, and the plate in his hand wobbled.

To others, it was a gleaming knife.

"He's going to use a knife!"

Someone shouted.

The atmosphere on the field changed instantly.

Which of these followers of the Heavenly Principle Sect didn't come from a life of constant danger? The instinct they have for the sight of a "knife" is to retaliate.

"Pfft!"

A real dagger was plunged into a man's stomach.

Fresh blood gushed out.

Everyone was stunned.

He committed murder.

Now, things are completely out of control.

Anger, fear, and suspicion spread through everyone's hearts. Those who had just been drinking tea together as "fellow disciples" had now become potential enemies.

"It's you!"

"You were the one who did it!"

"Don't move! Anyone who touches me will be killed!"

Zhou Yang watched this scene with satisfaction.

This is the effect he wanted.

It's a case of the wicked eating the wicked.

Let them clean themselves up.

Taking advantage of the chaos, he slipped across the street like a ghost and pushed open the side door of the teahouse. Inside, several civilian staff members responsible for intelligence transmission were huddled in a corner, trembling with fear.

Zhou Yang's gaze swept over the stack of letters on the table.

He grabbed several letters stamped with special sealing wax and stuffed them into his pocket.

Then he turned around and disappeared into the night once again.

Behind them, Wang's Teahouse had been transformed into a slaughterhouse. The sounds of fighting and screams carried far, alarming the night patrol soldiers of Anyang City.

Zhou Yang walked briskly down the deserted street.

He took the letters out of his pocket and examined the sealing wax seal by the moonlight. One letter was stamped with an "eagle," and the other with a "snake."

These are all markings from different departments within the Tenrikyo sect.

He put the letters and account books together and patted them.

Tonight's harvest is enough.

He looked up towards the east of the city. That was where Commander Chen's residence was located.

Ledgers, letters, and what he was going to do next.

He has completely muddied the waters of Anyang County.

He grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth.

The money and goods were exchanged.

Now, it's time for you all to enjoy the show.

He whistled, the sound carrying far into the silent night. Then, in a flash, he disappeared once more into the depths of the dark alley.