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

The sound of horses' hooves slowed down.

Zhou Yang felt his legs trembling. He was practically lying on the horse's back. The horse beneath him was also nearing its limit, its breathing like a broken bellows, and its head was covered in white foam.

He raised his head.

My gaze passed over the sparse treetops ahead. A dark gray line stretched across the sky and earth. It wasn't a cloud. Something heavier, more substantial than a cloud. It was a wall.

City wall.

We've arrived in the capital.

Qin Shuang reined in the horse, which pawed restlessly. She looked back at Zhou Yang, her face equally pale. The past few days and nights of traveling had taken a toll on her, even with her cultivation.

"Let's go into town," she said, her voice a little hoarse.

Zhou Yang didn't speak, only nodded. He dismounted, his movements stiff, almost losing his balance. His feet felt like they were on cotton, unsteady on his feet. He took the reins of both horses and limped forward.

The closer one gets, the more massive the city wall appears. It resembles an ancient behemoth lying prostrate on the earth, silent yet exuding an oppressive aura. On the bluish-gray bricks, one can see the mottled marks left by time, and some darker stains, like dried blood.

There were quite a few people at the city gate. A long queue stretched out, like a greedy snake, slowly inching forward, swallowing people and then spitting them out on the other side.

Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang blended into the crowd, heads down, trying their best not to attract attention.

The soldiers guarding the city gate were of two types. One type wore black iron armor, stood tall and straight, and had eyes as sharp as eagles. They stood ramrod straight, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords at their waists, motionless. These were the Tiger Guards, the elite troops of the Imperial Guard. The other type wore red uniforms, looking somewhat casual, but each of them was broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, holding their spears very steadily. These were soldiers from the Capital Garrison.

The Tiger Guards conducted inspections, while the Beijing Garrison maintained order.

The atmosphere was very tense.

The group included peddlers carrying their wares into town, refugees with their families and filled with fear, and scholars who looked like they were traveling for further studies. Each person wore a face etched with some degree of unease.

It was the turn of the middle-aged man in front of him. The Tiger Guard soldier took his household registration documents, his voice not loud, but very clear.

"Name?"

"Wang the Pockmarked".

"Place of origin?"

"Qingzhou Prefecture".

"What are you doing in Beijing?"

"I went to live with... a distant relative."

The Tiger Guard soldier looked up, his gaze sweeping over the man's face like a knife scraping across it. The man, terrified, lowered his head even further, sweat beading on his forehead.

The soldier said nothing more and threw the document back.

"Go in."

The man felt as if he had been granted a pardon and quickly pulled the child into the city gate.

Zhou Yang's heart skipped a beat. He reached into his pocket, where he found two household registration documents. Qin Shuang had prepared them beforehand. The documents identified them as a brother and sister who had come from the countryside to stay with relatives. The workmanship was exquisite; there shouldn't be any flaws.

Soon it was their turn.

Qin Shuang stepped forward and handed over the documents. She had changed into a coarse cloth outfit, her hair was tied up with a strip of cloth, and her face was smeared with some dust, making her look like an ordinary country girl.

The Tiger Guard soldiers took the document, their eyes scanning it before landing on Qin Shuang's face.

Zhou Yang felt the muscles in his back tense up. He forced himself to relax, lowered his head, and adopted an honest and unassuming appearance, only daring to look at his toes.

"Raise your head," the soldier said.

Qin Shuang slowly raised her head. Her eyes were bright, and even though she tried her best to hide it, she couldn't conceal her coldness.

The soldier's gaze lingered on her face for a full three breaths. Zhou Yang could hear her own heartbeat, each beat louder than the last.

"Call him over here too." The soldier tilted his head toward Zhou Yang.

Zhou Yang felt a chill run down his spine and had no choice but to move over.

"Brother and sister?" the soldier asked.

"Yes," Qin Shuang replied, her voice low and tinged with timidity.

"Judging from your appearance, you don't look like siblings." Another Tiger Guard came over and sized them up.

Zhou Yang's heart sank to the bottom. Was this the end?

Just then, a commotion arose at the back of the procession. A richly dressed young man, accompanied by several servants, was impatiently urging them on.

"Hurry up! Can't you see I'm heading into the city? If you delay important matters, can you take the blame?"

The Beijing garrison soldiers maintaining order frowned, but still stepped forward to negotiate.

The two Tiger Guards who were checking them were also drawn to the attention. They glanced back, a hint of impatience on their faces.

The leading soldier waved his hand, as if shooing away flies.

"Let it go. Next time, keep your eyes peeled."

Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang didn't say a word, quickly led their horses, and hurried into the deep and long city gate.

The moment I passed through the city gate, it felt like entering another world.

A cacophony of noise assaulted their senses. The flow of people pulled them inside. Cries of vendors, the rumble of wheels rolling over the cobblestones, and a mingled cacophony of smells: the sweet aroma of roasted chestnuts, the pungent odor of livestock, the sour scent of evaporating sweat, and a faint, almost imperceptible fragrance of cosmetics.

This is the capital city.

It was bustling, chaotic, and full of vibrant life.

But Zhou Yang didn't relax for a second. He subconsciously switched the reins to his left hand, while his right hand hung at his side, ready to reach the knife at his waist at any moment.

He could feel countless gazes sweeping over him.

It wasn't the overt inspection at the city gate, but rather the watchful eyes hidden in the shadows. Like an invisible net, it covered every inch of the air here.

On the second floor of the corner teahouse, a figure flashed past a window. Not far away, at the entrance of a silk shop, a shop assistant was dusting, but his eyes were glancing in their direction. Several idle men squatted against the wall, basking in the sun, looking lazy, but their eyes were wary.

There are more than just the Tiger Guards and the Capital Garrison here. There are many more unseen eyes watching.

Qin Shuang clearly sensed it too. She moved even closer to Zhou Yang.

"Find a place to stay," she said softly.

They didn't take the widest Zhuque Avenue. Qin Shuang led the way, deliberately choosing to navigate through narrow alleys. This avoided the noise of the main road and the overly bright light.

Finally, they stopped at the end of a seemingly secluded alley. The alley was narrow at the entrance and even darker inside. A sign for an inn hung there—a faded cloth banner with the words "Yuelai Inn" written in ink. The paint was peeling off, giving it a dilapidated appearance.

It's very quiet here, like a different world from the outside.

An old man was sleeping behind the counter. Hearing the noise, he slowly raised his eyelids, which were covered with wrinkles.

"A hotel?" His voice was hoarse, as if he had sand stuck in his throat.

"Yes, I need a hotel. Two rooms, somewhere quiet," Qin Shuang said.

The old man glanced at them, asked no further questions, took two wooden plaques from a drawer, and tossed them onto the counter. "Superior room, one tael of silver a night. Pay upfront."

Zhou Yang paid the money and took the wooden plaque.

"There are stables in the inn, go feed them yourself." After saying that, the old man lay down again, as if he had fallen asleep.

They led their horses around the counter and into the backyard. The yard was clean, but also deserted; there wasn't a soul in sight.

The guest room was on the second floor. Pushing open the door, a musty smell of old wood filled the air. The room wasn't large; it contained a bed, a table, and two chairs. The window faced the back wall, offering only a sliver of sky in view.

But it was very quiet.

Zhou Yang closed the door and bolted it. He leaned against the door and let out a long breath. His nerves, which had been tense for more than ten days since he left Anyang County, finally relaxed.

A wave of fatigue washed over me.

He walked to the table, sat down, poured himself a glass of cold tea, and gulped it down in one go.

Qin Shuang did the same thing in the room across the street.

After a long time, she finally knocked on the middle door.

"Come in."

Qin Shuang pushed open the door and came in. She had already washed her face and looked clean again, but the weariness between her brows was still evident.

"You felt it?" she asked.

"I can feel it," Zhou Yang said. "It's like a cage. It looks luxurious from the outside, but once you come in, it's shut off."

"The fish here are much bigger than those in Anyang County, and the water is much deeper." Qin Shuang sat down, looking at Zhou Yang. "Our troubles have only just begun."

"I know," Zhou Yang said, looking out the window at the sliver of sky. "But at least we have a few days to catch our breath."

He was silent for a moment, then reached into his tattered satchel and rummaged through it. There wasn't much in the satchel: a few changes of clothes and some dry rations. His hand touched a hard, stiff roll at the bottom of the satchel.

He took it out.

The scroll was wrapped tightly in oilcloth, layer upon layer. He unwrapped the oilcloth, revealing a parchment scroll inside.

Qin Shuang looked at the thing in his hand with a puzzled expression.

Zhou Yang offered no explanation. He slowly unrolled the sheepskin on the table.

That's not a map.

It was a massive diagram of personal connections. It was filled with densely packed names drawn in vermilion and ink, connected by red and black lines, some with circles or crosses. The whole diagram looked like a tangled mess, yet it subtly exuded a strange order.

This is a map showing the power structure of the capital city.

He bought it from a dying merchant when he was still in Anyang County. The man had been the manager of a large merchant house in the capital, but he had offended someone and his family was ruined. He was half-dead when he escaped.

Zhou Yang bought the map from him, along with a bunch of secrets about the capital city that he had in his mind. At the time, he just thought it was fun, something to have in case he needed it someday. He had never been willing to burn his lifespan to deduce and understand all the information on the map. That would be too taxing on his lifespan.

Now, it comes in handy.

His finger moved slowly across the map. The Embroidered Uniform Guard, the Six Ministries, the Inner Court, the Eastern Depot, the Western Depot, and the major families and sects in the capital... all forces were intertwined.

This picture shows the capital city. And an even bigger card table.

They are now two penniless gamblers who still want to sit at the table.

Zhou Yang's finger finally stopped at the top left corner of the picture. There, he drew a circle in the most conspicuous vermilion.

Inside the circle are two elegant seal characters.

The Eastern Depot.