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

The official road was covered in yellow earth.

The horses' hooves kicked up a cloud of dry dust. A gust of wind blew, and it covered people's faces.

Zhou Yang walked in front, followed by Qin Shuang. Both had changed into the most ordinary blue cloth clothes, and wore sun hats with the brims pulled low, revealing only their chins and mouths. They looked like ordinary brother and sister traveling together, nothing unusual.

After riding for three consecutive days, Zhou Yang's lower back was starting to ache. His hands, gripping the reins, were stiff at the joints. The horse beneath him was one he had chosen from the horse market outside Anyang County; it had good stamina and endurance. It was just a bit wild, occasionally snorting and shaking its head to express its displeasure.

Qin Shuang was in better condition than him. Her internal energy was profound, allowing her to heal her injuries quickly. The wound she sustained by the river had stopped bleeding, though it still ached slightly when moved. She followed behind silently, her silence like a small mountain. In the shadow of her straw hat, her lips were always tightly pressed together.

This road leads north. It's straight, seemingly without end.

As evening approached, a small town came into view. Smoke rose from the sparse rooftops, drawing a straight column of smoke against the hazy sky.

"Let's go in and rest for a bit," Zhou Yang said, reining in his horse and turning back.

Qin Shuang nodded.

The two men led their horses into the town. The town was small, with a main street lined with shops and houses. There weren't many pedestrians, and those who did see the two travel-worn strangers only glanced at them briefly before going about their business.

Zhou Yang found a shop with a sign that read "Tonghui Money Exchange" without any trouble. The silver note he had exchanged at the pawnshop was of a considerable denomination, and ordinary small shops wouldn't be able to make change. He told Qin Shuang to wait at the street corner, then lifted the curtain and went inside.

The salesman behind the counter raised his eyelids, his eyes shrewd.

"Exchange some loose silver and some copper coins." Zhou Yang took the silver notes out of his pocket and gently placed them on the counter. He didn't say a word more.

The clerk picked up the silver note, held it up to the light, and then pinched the lines with his fingernail to confirm it was genuine. He didn't ask where it came from; that was standard practice.

"Please wait a moment, sir."

Soon, a heavy string of copper coins and several ingots of silver of varying sizes, wrapped in cloth, were pushed in front of Zhou Yang.

Zhou Yang weighed the item in his hand, stuffed it into his pocket, and turned to leave.

Instead of going directly to Qin Shuang, he first went into a pharmacy.

"Boss, I want the best quality herbal medicine to stop bleeding. Also, some medicine to clear heat and reduce inflammation," he said, pointing to several medicine jars on the shelf.

The pharmacy owner was a thin, old man who slowly prepared the medicine for him, muttering, "Young man, don't be so hot-tempered, drink more water."

Zhou Yang ignored him, paid the money, and came out with the wrapped medicine packet.

Qin Shuang remained standing there, like a statue. The afterglow of the setting sun gilded the edge of her straw hat with a faint golden hue.

"Let's go, let's find a place to stay," Zhou Yang said softly as he walked past her.

They found an inconspicuous post station. It wasn't one of those official inns, just a simple courtyard where people could rest. A one-eyed old man was in charge of looking after it. He took their money, didn't register it, and just randomly pointed them to a side courtyard behind the woodshed.

There are only two rooms in the courtyard.

"You'll stay in that room," Zhou Yang said, pointing to the room on the east side.

Qin Shuang didn't say anything and went inside by herself.

Zhou Yang went into the west room, put his things down, and first filled a basin with water, washing his face thoroughly. The water was very cold, and the splashes on his face cleared his groggy head considerably. He took out a packet of medicine from his pocket, tore it open, walked to Qin Shuang's door, and knocked.

"Come in."

The door wasn't closed.

Zhou Yang pushed open the door and went in. Qin Shuang had already taken off her coat and was sitting on the edge of the bed, clumsily tearing at the strips of cloth covering her wound. The old cloth and scabs were stuck together, pulling at her flesh with every movement. Fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and her face was somewhat pale in the dim light.

"Don't move." Zhou Yang walked over and knelt down in front of her.

He reached out and gently parted her fingers. His fingers were dry, carrying the dust of his journey. Qin Shuang's fingers were icy cold; she flinched slightly but didn't pull them back.

Zhou Yang soaked a clean cloth in hot water and gently moistened the edges of the wound. Once the scab had softened, he carefully and meticulously peeled off the cloth strips. His movements were steady and patient; it wasn't as if he were treating a wound, but rather as if he were repairing a precious piece of porcelain.

Neither of them spoke throughout the entire process.

The only sound in the room was the faint tearing sound of strips of cloth being pulled back.

After reapplying the medicine and bandaging it with a clean bandage, Zhou Yang tied a knot.

"Alright," he said, standing up and preparing to leave.

"Zhou Yang," Qin Shuang suddenly spoke, her voice a little hoarse.

He stopped and turned around.

"Thanks."

Zhou Yang paused for a moment, then smirked. "Put it on the tab."

He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Outside, he leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh. He had been too close; he could smell the faint scent of blood on her, and an indescribable, frost-like aura.

That evening, the two ate in the inn's simple dining hall. There were only a few side dishes and two bowls of coarse rice.

There weren't many people eating; only two men at the next table, who looked like well-traveled businessmen, were chatting loudly.

"Have you heard? There's chaos in Anyang County!" said a fat merchant, his mouth full of rice.

"What's wrong? Aren't the Wang family and the prefectural governor's office locked in a fierce battle?" another, thinner merchant asked curiously.

"Hey! It's all in the past!" The fat merchant took a sip of his drink, his voice rising even louder. "I have a distant relative over there. He said that the garrison commander sent down from the capital, what's his name, Chen something, was incompetent and made a complete mess of things. He was dismissed and investigated a few days ago!"

"Is it that serious?"

"That's right! Once the garrison commander left, the Wang family and the prefectural governor's office had no more scruples and went straight into a bloodbath! I heard it was a bloodbath! In the end, nobody benefited; both sides were severely injured! The head of the Wang family died, and the prefectural governor was beheaded!"

The thin merchant gasped, "My God! Who's in charge of Anyang Prefecture now?"

"Who's in charge? Nobody's in charge anymore!" The fat merchant slapped his thigh. "The entire Anyang Prefecture is a mess! Nobody's in charge! We businessmen are now avoiding it, afraid to go through. It's too chaotic!"

The canteen was quiet, and their words reached Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang's ears without being missed.

Zhou Yang stopped moving. He held a piece of green vegetable in his chopsticks, which remained suspended in mid-air.

Across from him, Qin Shuang was slowly sipping a bowl of clear soup. The rim of the bowl obscured her face, but Zhou Yang could see that her hand holding the bowl was steady without trembling at all.

After a few seconds, Zhou Yang put the food in his mouth and chewed it slowly.

He raised his head.

Qin Shuang also put down her soup bowl.

The two looked at each other across a wooden table.

Under the shadow of the straw hat, no one could see anyone else's expression.

But in that instant, Zhou Yang saw a hint of relief in Qin Shuang's eyes. He knew that he must have seen the same thing in his own eyes.

Their plan was a complete success.

There was no earth-shattering elation, nor the excitement of surviving a disaster.

All the chaos, fighting, scheming, and pursuit were gently turned over with a few casual words at the next table. It was like a heavy book finally turning to a new page.

Zhou Yang lowered his head and continued eating.

Qin Shuang also picked up her chopsticks and took a bite of rice.

Everything was the same as usual.

It seems like everything is different now.

After dinner, the two returned to their respective rooms. Night deepened, and the chirping of insects began.

Zhou Yang lay on the bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the dark ceiling. He had burned fifty years of his lifespan in exchange for the title of "Corpse King," for the fear of everyone, and for a power vacuum in Anyang County.

Is it worth it?

He recalled Qin Shuang's words on the boat: "Put it in the account."

Then I remembered her saying "thank you" earlier.

He thought, maybe it's worth it.

The next morning, before dawn, the two got up.

Zhou Yang paid the rent and led out the horse. Qin Shuang was already waiting at the courtyard gate, the morning light outlining her slender figure.

"Let's go." Zhou Yang mounted his horse.

Qin Shuang also mounted her horse.

The two riders, one in front and one behind, rejoined the official road leading north. The sound of hooves pounded the road surface, crisp and powerful.

The official road ahead stretched out in the rising sun, its end nowhere in sight.

The road to the capital is still long. But at least they have shaken off the quagmire behind them called "Anyang County".