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

The night air in Anyang was filled with a lingering fishy smell.

Zhou Yang huddled in the shadows of a dead-end alley, clutching the letters he had just smuggled. He didn't rush on his way; instead, he listened intently. In the distance, Wang's Teahouse was still in complete chaos, a cacophony of shouts and clashing weapons creating a particularly noisy scene.

"These guys are really putting in a lot of effort."

He muttered something to himself and, using the faint moonlight at the alley entrance, examined each envelope one by one.

The envelope was made of thick paper and felt slightly damp. The sealing wax with the character "Eagle" was pressed deeply, with rough edges, indicating that the person who sealed it had used considerable force. Zhou Yang didn't open it; instead, he used his fingernail to pry open the sealing wax, his movements as practiced as if he were tearing open a payment reminder slip from his own mailbox.

The letter was unfolded, and it was covered with tiny, neat characters.

He glanced at it quickly, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

"This is good stuff."

This was no ordinary letter; it was clearly a jumbled mess of accounts. The letter listed the names of the Heavenly Principle Cult's spies throughout Anyang County in great detail, even specifying where and how much of each month's stipend was sent. And at the end, the bright red personal seal, though only half-stamped, was recognizable as the seal of Commander Chen to anyone with eyesight.

This Commander Chen, who usually appears with a stern and incorruptible face, actually has a hand that reaches further than anyone else behind the scenes.

Zhou Yang folded the letter back along the original crease and put it back in the envelope. His movements were slow, even leisurely, as if he were organizing a newly purchased account book.

"Commander Chen, if you don't clean up your mess properly, don't blame me for making a name for you."

He tucked the letter into his robes, placing it close to his heart. The cool touch of the paper brought him slightly back to his senses. Having wade into this muddy water tonight, he had to make a name for himself. Killing people was meaningless; he had to destroy their spirit.

He dusted himself off and emerged from the alley.

Commander Chen's residence was in the east of the city, not too far from the teahouse, but separated by two main streets. By this time, the night patrol soldiers had been drawn away by the commotion at the teahouse, and the streets were deserted, with only a few stray dogs running around near the walls.

Zhou Yang walked very fast, his footsteps barely making a sound. He avoided the main roads, choosing instead to venture into the back alleys and nooks. Even stray dogs wouldn't want to stay in such places, let alone the pampered guards.

Before long, the towering walls of the Chen residence came into view.

Two large lanterns hung at the entrance of the Chen residence, swaying in the wind, casting their shadows on the ground. Four guards stood at the gate, each with their chests out and heads held high, looking quite spirited. However, given the freezing weather, the guards kept stamping their feet and rubbing their hands, muttering something under their breath.

Zhou Yang didn't go through the main gate. He circled the wall and finally stopped in a dead corner. This place was the kitchen's swill dumping opening, and the smell was pungent, the sour and rotten odor hitting his nose directly.

"Rich people aren't necessarily that particular."

He held his breath, pushed off the wall with his toes, and climbed up like a gecko. The wall wasn't high for him, only about two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters) high, and he could easily climb over it with a little leverage. He didn't use much strength to get to the top of the wall, and casually touched the tiles on the top, his fingertips getting a little dew on them.

The courtyard was quiet.

Zhou Yang had never been inside the Chen residence before, but he had seen the blueprints. Blueprints of residences for officials of the same rank were not hard to find in the Imperial Guard's archives. The front courtyard housed servants, the middle courtyard contained the main hall and study, and the rear courtyard was where the family members lived.

His current goal is clear: the study.

Generally, confidential documents like these are either carried close to one's body or hidden in what one considers the safest place. Right now, Commander Chen is still outside dealing with the mess at the teahouse; there should be no one in the study.

Zhou Yang slid down from the wall, his knees slightly bent as he landed to absorb the impact. He crept forward along the pillars of the veranda, avoiding several patrolling servants.

The Chen residence looked heavily guarded, but it wasn't actually that bad. The servants carried lanterns, the light illuminating the hall, but it also cast long shadows, making it even harder to spot those lurking in the shadows.

Zhou Yang easily found his way to the study door.

The study door was locked, secured with a brass padlock. This type of lock is more effective against honest people than thieves. Zhou Yang didn't even bother with tools; he simply picked up a brick, wrapped it in his sleeve, and smashed it down hard.

A muffled "thud".

The lock wasn't open, but the latch was loose.

Regardless of whether anyone heard, he reached out and turned the doorknob, opening it. A strong scent of ink wafted out, mixed with the musty smell of old paper.

He didn't turn on the lamp; with the moonlight streaming in through the window, he could barely make out the furnishings in the room.

A large desk, a grand master's chair, and behind it a whole wall of bookshelves.

Zhou Yang didn't rummage through the bookshelf; that's something only an idiot would do. He went straight to the desk and reached under it to feel around.

Sure enough, there was a hidden compartment.

But the hidden compartment was locked. This lock was much more sophisticated than the one outside; it was a rotary lock with a mechanism.

Zhou Yang frowned. Forcibly prying this thing open would be too noisy and leave marks. He wasn't here to kill anyone, but to frame someone. Framing someone is a delicate art, all about subtlety and stealth.

He took out the letter with the word "eagle" printed on it from his pocket, thought for a moment, and then put it back.

This letter is too conspicuous; placing it directly in the hidden compartment would seem too deliberate. A cunning old fox like Commander Chen would definitely suspect someone had broken in.

We need to find a different way to put it.

His gaze swept around the room, finally settling on the pen holder on the table. It was a large blue-and-white porcelain pen holder, filled with all sorts of calligraphy brushes.

Zhou Yang chuckled and gently tucked the unopened letter under the pen holder, placing it between the pen holder and the table. The envelope was thin and dark in color, so unless you specifically picked up the pen holder to look, you wouldn't notice anything unusual underneath.

After doing all this, he pulled a small porcelain bottle from his sleeve. It contained poison powder he had casually taken from some unfortunate soul on his way here; it wouldn't kill, but it would make anyone dizzy upon smelling it.

He poured the poison powder into an oil lamp on the corner of the table. The wick absorbed the poison powder and quickly dried.

If the lights are turned on in this study tomorrow morning, the poisonous gas will slowly dissipate. Whoever enters the study then will be poisoned. Although this is not a major incident, it is enough to make Commander Chen flustered when dealing with that letter, revealing more flaws.

"This is called double insurance."

Zhou Yang clapped his hands, took one last look at the elegantly decorated study, and turned to leave.

Just as I stepped out of the study, I suddenly heard a series of hurried footsteps outside.

"Quick! Go to the study and see if the adults have left anything behind!"

A high-pitched voice came from the veranda not far away.

Zhou Yang's heart tightened. Instead of rushing out, he darted behind the large potted plant by the study door. The plant, a Podocarpus macrophyllus, had dense foliage that completely concealed him.

Two seconds later, two servants dressed in blue robes came running over carrying lanterns.

"Sir, even with such a big incident at the teahouse, he's still thinking about that painting in his study."

"Stop talking nonsense, take it and get out of here. Don't keep Lord Thousand-Household waiting."

The two pushed open the door and rushed inside.

Zhou Yang hid behind the potted plants, watching the two lanterns sway into the house, his heart barely skipping a beat. He'd seen this kind of scene many times; as long as he didn't panic, the other party was blind.

The two servants searched the room for a while and soon came out with a scroll.

"Found it, this is it."

"Walk!"

The two left in a hurry, without even locking the door properly.

Zhou Yang waited until they were far away before emerging from behind the potted plant. He glanced at the half-open door and shrugged.

"Thanks, you saved me the trouble of locking the door."

He didn't linger and climbed over the wall to leave the Chen residence.

After leaving the Chen residence, Zhou Yang did not leave immediately, but instead went around to a dark alley behind the Chen residence. There, an inconspicuous blue cloth carriage was parked, with a coachman sitting on the shaft, dozing off while holding a whip.

This is Commander Chen's private car, which he usually uses to pick up and drop off his family.

Zhou Yang walked over and, without any hesitation, knocked on the side panel of the carriage.

"Who?" The driver woke up with a start, and before he could turn around, he felt a chill on his neck.

Zhou Yang held a thin piece of tile in his hand, pressing it against his carotid artery.

"Don't move, can I borrow a light?"

Zhou Yang's voice was very low, making it impossible to guess his age.

The driver froze, then shakily pulled a tinderbox from his pocket and handed it over.

Zhou Yang took the tinderbox, blew on it, and held it up to the driver's face, getting a clear look at the man's terrified expression. He was a stranger; apparently, not some expert.

"I have a question for you. Answer it well and I'll spare your life." Zhou Yang applied a little force to the tile, and a bloody mark immediately seeped out from the driver's neck.

"Please speak, sir. Please speak, sir."

"Is Commander Chen in that small courtyard in the west of the city tonight?"

"Yes...yes, the master said he's meeting a distinguished guest there tonight and that we servants aren't allowed to follow."

"That's right."

Zhou Yang smiled, flicked his wrist, and delivered a karate chop to the back of the driver's neck. The driver's eyes rolled back, and he slumped limply against the carriage shaft, unconscious.

Zhou Yang dragged the driver to a corner of the alley, covered him with some rotten grass, and then clapped his hands.

"It seems Commander Chen is really busy tonight."

He looked up at the sky; the moon was already setting in the west.

The commotion at the teahouse was still ongoing, but it had subsided considerably. It was likely that the Heavenly Principle Sect members and those other miscellaneous forces had nearly finished their battle and were now in the final stages.

Commander Chen should not have returned to his residence yet; he is currently in that so-called "small courtyard" in the west of the city.

Zhou Yang played with the tinderbox in his hand, the faint firelight reflecting off his face in an uncertain pattern.

The fire has been lit.

Next, it's just a matter of seeing how this fire ends up on Commander Chen's backside. If he just shifts the blame for tonight's teahouse incident slightly onto Commander Chen, and adds that letter hidden under the pen holder, Commander Chen will definitely take the fall.

The Heavenly Principle Sect has lost its account books and letters, so they'll definitely search frantically. If they can't find them, they'll suspect there's a traitor within their ranks. And Commander Chen, as the "liaison," is the most likely suspect.

And that letter...

Zhou Yang could almost picture Chen Qianhu being unable to defend himself.

"Since we're all colleagues, it's only right that we help each other and share the burden."

Zhou Yang blew out the tinderbox and casually threw it into the stinking ditch by the roadside.

He turned and walked towards the west of the city.

The performance at the teahouse is over; now it's time to check out that "little courtyard." Perhaps an unexpected surprise awaits him there.

After all, the "distinguished guest" that Commander Chen was going to meet might just be his biggest trump card tonight.

The night wind blew harder, swirling up the withered leaves on the ground and sending them drifting into the air. Zhou Yang tightened his collar, and his figure was quickly swallowed by the darkness, leaving only a patch of sparse moonlight illuminating the empty carriage, making it appear exceptionally desolate.