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

The sky over Anyang County brightened reluctantly.

The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated when a rapid gong blast ripped through the air. It wasn't the slow, drawn-out chime of the watchman, but a frantic, chaotic banging that could jol someone awake from a dream. Immediately afterward, a heavy creaking sound came from the direction of the city gate—the sound of it being closed prematurely.

On the street, an early-rising vendor had just pushed his cart to the alley entrance when he saw a group of patrolling officers rushing past, their armor clattering together, their faces covered in sweat from tension. One of the officers held a roll of newly pasted notices in his hand, the paste still wet.

"Martial law declared! Martial law declared throughout the city!"

"Three cases were investigated simultaneously, so we're checking every single house!"

The news spread like wildfire, seeping into every crevice of the cobblestone path. Inside the teahouse, even before the storyteller arrived, the guests were already buzzing with excitement.

"Have you heard? The Fu Lai Teahouse in the south of the city was massacred last night!"

"Not only that! The Hengtong Pawnshop in the west of the city has been burned to the ground!"

"And there's a mass grave! The authorities say it's haunted, and a lot of rioters have gathered there, so they sent troops there overnight!"

Three pieces of news, like three buckets of cold water, were poured over the heads of everyone in Anyang County. This was no longer a simple public security case; it was a sign that something serious was about to happen.

……

Inside the prefectural governor's mansion, the atmosphere was even heavier than the fog on the street.

Prefect Li Wenbo stared at the letter spread out before him, the veins on his forehead throbbing. He had seen that letter last night; it was a secret letter from Fang Tian of the Heavenly Principle Sect. Now, a copy of that letter was in the hands of Wang Zhen, the old patriarch of the Wang family.

"Lord Li," Wang Zhen's voice was like sandpaper scraping against wood, dry and harsh, "can you recognize the handwriting on this letter?"

Li Wenbo's knuckles turned white as he gripped the teacup. The tea had long since gone cold; he hadn't drunk a drop. He had burned the letter himself; the ashes had all gone down the drain. How did the Wang family obtain the copy? When did they intercept it?

"Nonsense," Li Wenbo said, his voice dry. "I wonder where Brother Wang obtained such filth, and you intend to use it to slander this official?"

Wang Zhen laughed, his wrinkled face resembling a withered chrysanthemum. "Slander? Lord Li, this letter was sent to the capital by fast horse by the Wang family last night. It's probably already on the desk of the Censorate officials."

He paused, leaned forward slightly, and lowered his voice: "Colluding with traitors—can Lord Li bear the charge of that?"

Li Wenbo's breath hitched. He saw the undisguised smugness and ruthlessness in Wang Zhen's eyes. This was a trap. A trap that had been dug since yesterday, waiting specifically for him to fall into. He had burned the letter, thinking it was all gone, but he hadn't expected that Wang Zhen would even dig out the ashes.

"Wang Zhen, what do you want to do?" Li Wenbo put down his teacup, which clattered against the table with a crisp sound.

"I don't want to do anything." Wang Zhen stood up and straightened his robes. "I just want to remind you, sir, that things are about to change in Anyang County. You are a smart man; you should know which side to choose."

After saying that, he turned and left, leaving Li Wenbo alone in the empty hall. Outside the window, the sky was gradually brightening, but he felt as if he were surrounded by darkness. The knife hanging over his head was finally about to fall.

……

Chen Qianhu's residence was shrouded in an invisible net.

Across the street in a teahouse, several idle men dressed in shorts sat from sunrise to afternoon, their eyes frequently glancing towards the Chen family mansion's gate. Their waists were bulging; they were no ordinary people.

Inside the Chen residence, the smell of medicine mixed with the stench of blood was nauseating.

Commander Chen lay shirtless on the bed. A deep, bone-revealing wound on his back was inflicted by the Heavenly Principle Sect protector the previous night. The doctor had just changed his dressing, and the white gauze was quickly stained red again by the seeping blood.

He didn't care about the injury on his back.

His eyes were fixed on the small stack of silver notes on the corner of the table. He had salvaged them from the fire; most were burned to pieces, their edges charred and curled, the words "silver" barely legible. But these scraps of paper were his last trump card.

"Useless! A bunch of useless trash!" He slammed his fist on the edge of the bed, the wooden board groaning in pain. Most of the servants and guards in his mansion were killed, and he hadn't even caught a glimpse of Zhou Yang.

He hated the Heavenly Principles Sect for breaking their promises, and he hated Zhou Yang, that scoundrel who had toyed with him, even more. And the Wang family! He was certain that those monitoring him were sent by the Wang family. The Wang family was taking advantage of his weakness to kill him!

"Lord Commander, someone has brought a box to the door." A servant timidly poked his head in.

Commander Chen narrowed his eyes. "Who is it?"

"He didn't say anything... he just put the box down and left."

Commander Chen struggled to his feet, and his servants quickly helped him up. Walking into the courtyard, he saw a simple wooden box on the stone table. He opened it and found only a note inside.

Above were Zhou Yang's familiar, slightly sarcastic handwriting.

"I've left you a portion of the remaining money at the Wang family's. Go get it if you want it."

Chen Qianhu's pupils instantly shrank to pinpoints. He crumpled the note into a ball, his chest heaving violently. Zhou Yang! This was provocation! He was forcing him to fight the Wang family to the death!

He looked at the looming gazes across the street, then at the burnt silver notes in his hand, and a metallic taste rose in his mouth.

"Zhou...Yang..." He squeezed out the two words through his teeth, as if he wanted to chew them up and swallow them whole.

……

At the same time, in an inn in the south of the city.

Qin Shuang's room was dimly lit. She unfolded a letter sealed with wax; the handwriting on the letter was the secret code used exclusively by the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Every word felt like a needle piercing her heart.

"...The chaos in Anyang County has alarmed the higher-ups. The Garrison Commander will arrive soon to thoroughly investigate this matter, with the target being Commander Qin Shuang and his subordinates..."

Pacification Commissioner.

He was a powerful figure within the Embroidered Uniform Guard, holding a rank far above that of a commander. His arrival represented the iron fist of the court, showing no mercy. The investigation was thorough, and the targets were still her and Zhou Yang. This was no longer an investigation; it was a trial.

She held the letter to the candlelight, watching it slowly curl, turn black, and finally turn to ash. The firelight illuminated her face, making her expression unreadable. But her hand, gripping the dagger, tightened unconsciously.

The door was gently pushed open.

Zhou Yang walked in, still carrying the chill from outside. He saw Qin Shuang standing before the candlestick and understood everything.

"You're here?"

Qin Shuang nodded. "The Garrison Commander."

"A little faster than I expected." Zhou Yang wasn't surprised at all. He walked to the table, sat down, and poured himself a glass of water. "That's good, saves us from waiting any longer."

His calmness puzzled Qin Shuang. The Garrison Commander was someone they absolutely couldn't afford to offend.

"What are your plans?" Qin Shuang asked.

Zhou Yang didn't answer directly. He pointed to the two cloth bags at his feet. "Come here, I'll show you something good."

Qin Shuang walked over and saw Zhou Yang open one of the cloth bags, inside which were neatly stacked gold ingots and silver ingots, gleaming alluringly in the dim room. The other cloth bag contained loose silver coins and strings of copper coins.

"The spoils from the pawnshop and the mass grave," Zhou Yang said, starting to sort through the loose silver. "These, gold and silver ingots, we'll keep for the journey. Enough for us to travel to the ends of the earth."

He then moved the loose silver and copper coins to another pile. "These need to be sent out."

"Send it out?" Qin Shuang frowned. "Why?"

"Creating a false impression." Zhou Yang raised his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Qin Shuang, what do you think the difference would be between the feelings of government officials chasing a vicious bandit and a benevolent 'philanthropist'?"

Qin Shuang immediately understood what he meant.

Zhou Yang continued, "The water's already muddy enough; we need to add another layer of mud. I'll have someone distribute this money to the refugees in the city, letting them know that there's a mysterious, kind-hearted person in Anyang County. If we can't escape, these thoughts will be our shield, our mouths to speak for us."

He always leaves himself several options, even when he's on the run.

"You've thought of everything very carefully," Qin Shuang said sincerely.

"He wouldn't have been alive if he hadn't been so thorough." Zhou Yang handed her a small bag of loose silver. "Take this, for self-defense. I'll go arrange for the money to be delivered."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the patrolling soldiers and hurried civilians outside. The entire Anyang Prefecture had become a giant net, and they were two fish caught in it.

But the expression on his face resembled that of a fisherman casting his net.

"The wind is picking up," he said softly. "It's time to go."