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

The lead cavalryman stopped at the alley entrance.

Zhou Yang's figure had already disappeared.

He reached out his hand. His fingertips touched the spine of the broken sword on the door.

The cold iron still retained the warmth of another person's body.

That temperature, like a needle, pierced his heart.

"Splash!"

He yanked the broken sword down.

He casually tore up the piece of paper next to him that was covered with confessions.

The scraps of paper fluttered down like a flock of startled white butterflies, landing on the ground.

A man dressed in a python robe walked out of the East Depot gate.

He was very thin, his face pale from years of lack of sunlight. His eyes were long and narrow, like two slits that hadn't yet woken up.

He is one of the stall owners here.

The foreman glanced at the scraps of paper on the ground and the broken sword in the hand of the guard.

He didn't get angry, and his expression didn't even change much.

He simply crouched down and picked up the pieces of the glass from the ground, one by one, using two fingers.

The movements were slow and meticulous, as if they were handling some precious treasure.

"There's no way to advance through the official path."

He spoke, his voice hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against wood.

"Then let's walk the path of the martial world."

He gathered the pieces of paper he had picked up together and blew on them.

The debris scattered and flew away.

He stood up and looked at the imperial guard.

"Go tell 'Ghost's Bane'. Increase the reward by thirty percent."

"Let him take his men on his way. I want this man's life, to be laid to rest in the mass grave outside the city before dawn tomorrow."

The imperial guard bowed and accepted the order: "Yes, Your Excellency."

He gripped the broken sword tightly in his hand, the blade digging painfully into his palm.

The foreman turned and walked back into the depths of the gate, his figure fading into the darkness.

The few guards left at the door looked at each other in bewilderment.

They knew that the Eastern Depot's methods were about to change.

There will be no more interrogations, no more confessions.

Next, all that's left is to kill.

The assassins were drawn from their swords, leaving no trace whether alive or dead.

……

Zhou Yang did not return directly to the Northern Garrison Command.

He walked down the long street at a leisurely pace.

He was clutching an iron plate in his palm.

It was taken from the study of the Minister of War. A small travel token.

The iron plate was heavy. Every line on it seemed to represent a human life.

He liked this feeling.

Controlling the life and death of others is far more interesting than acquiring gold and silver treasures.

There weren't many pedestrians on the long street.

Occasionally, a horse-drawn carriage would pass by, its wheels making a rumbling sound as they rolled over the bluestone slabs.

The sky was a bit overcast.

The wind carried a damp, earthy smell, as if it were about to rain.

Zhou Yang twirled the token between his fingers; the icy touch made him very alert.

The Eastern Depot was humiliated, and the Ministry of War was manipulated.

His current position is considered stable for the time being.

It's stable, but only temporarily.

He knew he had stirred up a huge hornet's nest.

Just as he turned a corner, a figure brushed past him.

A faint scent of herbs and trees wafted into my nose.

It's not any kind of incense; it's just the smell of grass and earth mixed together in a mountain forest after the rain.

Zhou Yang paused for a moment.

He turned his head to look.

The man wore a straw hat and coarse linen clothes, looking like a traveling merchant on a long journey.

The straw hat was pulled low, obscuring the face.

The other person also stopped, seemingly sensing his gaze.

The two stood three steps apart, staring at each other.

Zhou Yang touched the embroidered spring knife at his waist. The hilt was icy cold.

The man made no move.

He simply extended one hand from his sleeve.

He was holding a small piece of paper in his hand.

He handed the note over.

Zhou Yang didn't move.

The man took a step forward and shoved the note into Zhou Yang's hand.

It feels slightly cool to the touch.

After making this move, he immediately turned around.

Not a single word wasted.

In just a few steps, they merged into the crowd at the street corner and disappeared from sight.

Zhou Yang opened his palm.

The note rustled in the wind.

He unfolded it and saw that there was only one line of text on it.

The handwriting is very ordinary; it was written with charcoal.

"The Heavenly Principle Sect is about to enter the capital. Watch your head!"

Zhou Yang looked at the note and smiled.

Is this a reminder? Or another warning?

He read the words on the note again, and every stroke exuded a chilling aura.

Tianlijiao.

He was familiar with this name.

Fang Tian's death was like an invisible thread that bound him to this vast underground organization.

He touched his neck.

It feels a bit cool there.

He folded the note and tucked it into his sleeve.

The smugness he felt from wielding power vanished in an instant.

Storm is coming.

This old saying was particularly clear in his mind at that moment.

……

When Zhou Yang pushed open the door to Qin Shuang's courtyard, Qin Shuang was sitting at the stone table.

A map of the capital city lay open in front of her, her finger moving slowly across it as if she were deducing something.

Hearing the noise, she looked up.

"You're back."

Her voice was a little hoarse, and there was a hint of fatigue between her brows.

"Okay." Zhou Yang responded, walked over, and sat down opposite her.

He poured himself a cup of tea. The tea had already gone cold.

He raised his glass and drank it all in one gulp.

"You don't look well," Qin Shuang said, looking at him. "Have you gotten into trouble again?"

Zhou Yang put down his teacup, which clattered against the stone table with a crisp sound.

"The feng shui of the Eastern Depot is bad," he said casually.

Qin Shuang didn't reply. Her gaze was sharp, as if she could see right through him.

Zhou Yang knew he couldn't hide it from her.

He took the note out of his sleeve and placed it on the map.

The note was small, but it stood out conspicuously among the densely packed street signs.

"Look at this."

Qin Shuang's body stiffened slightly.

She reached out and picked up the note.

Her fingers were steady, with only a barely perceptible tremor at the fingertips.

When she saw the words on it, her pupils contracted sharply.

"Tenri Sect..."

She murmured those four words, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Do they really dare to go to Beijing?"

Zhou Yang leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of his chest.

"They don't dare."

He looked at Qin Shuang and spoke slowly and clearly, word by word.

"They've already arrived."

The voice just fell.

Outside the window, a muffled clap of thunder rolled across the sky.

Immediately afterwards, a drop of icy rain hit the bluestone slab.

Then came the second drop, and the third drop.

Soon, a fine curtain of rain enveloped the entire courtyard.

The rain pattered softly, striking the eaves and leaves, and also striking people's hearts.

Qin Shuang held the note, remaining silent for a long time.

The air became oppressive.

The rain intensified.

Large raindrops pounded on the tiles, making a pattering sound. The muddy ground in the yard was quickly soaked, turning into a muddy mess.

Qin Shuang's face was as gloomy as the weather. She held the note with the three words "Heavenly Principle Sect" written on it close to the candlelight and watched it slowly turn to ashes.

Is the news reliable?

She asked.

His voice was a little hoarse.

"The people from the Eastern Depot told me this themselves," Zhou Yang said. "They wanted me to investigate the Heavenly Principle Sect. But they were afraid I wouldn't agree, or that if I died, the information would be cut off. So, they used a note as insurance."

Qin Shuang walked to the window and looked at the rain outside.

"The Eastern Depot is deeply entrenched in the capital. Since they know the Heavenly Principle Sect members are here, why don't they take action?"

"I don't have the ability," Zhou Yang replied directly. "Or perhaps the price is too high. They want to use me, the Embroidered Uniform Guard's knife, to remove this thorn. We're mad dogs; it's not a loss if we bite them to death."

Qin Shuang fell silent. She knew Zhou Yang was telling the truth. In the imperial court, the Embroidered Uniform Guard was the emperor's sharpest, yet also most easily discarded, weapon.

"Let's go back to the headquarters." Qin Shuang turned around. "This matter must be reported immediately."

Back at the Northern Garrison, the rain hadn't stopped.

The air was filled with the dampness of rain and soil.

The atmosphere in the Zhenfusi compound was even more oppressive than the weather.

As soon as Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang entered the room, they sensed that something was wrong.

All the captains and strongmen who saw them instinctively stopped what they were doing. Their eyes darted away, and their whispers instantly fell silent.

They looked at Zhou Yang as if he were a dead man.

Fear, sympathy, and a touch of schadenfreude.

A minor officer named Wang Meng, whom Zhou Yang had personally promoted, stood there, rubbing his hands, wanting to come over and greet him, but not daring to.

Zhou Yang waved to him.

Wang Meng hesitated for a moment, but still jogged over.

"Lord Zhou... Lord Zhou."

His voice was weak.

"What happened?" Zhou Yang asked calmly.

Wang Meng swallowed hard, his voice barely audible, like a mosquito's hum.

"Sir, it's...it's all over the place. They're saying..."

"What did you say?"

"They said you went to the Eastern Depot yesterday and kicked over Eunuch Cao's tea table. And...and you took something from the Eastern Depot." Wang Meng lowered his head more and more as he spoke. "So...so Eunuch Cao sent 'Ghost-Fearer' to...invite you for tea."

"A nightmare for ghosts?"

Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow.

Qin Shuang's expression changed completely.

She suddenly grabbed Wang Meng's arm.

"Where did the news come from?"

"Reporting to Commander Bai, it's the Eastern Depot that spread the word. Now half the capital knows, saying that 'Ghost-Slayer' is involved, and Lord Zhou won't live past tonight. The gambling dens are open, and the odds of betting on you surviving are 1 to 20." Wang Meng almost cried, "Sir, what... what are we going to do!"

Qin Shuang loosened her grip, her knuckles turning white from the force.

"Nonsense!"

She gave a low shout.

The Eastern Depot's move was extremely vicious.

This is essentially putting Zhou Yang in a very difficult position, turning the phrase "the devil's bane" into a death knell hanging over his head.

kill without spilling blood.

She pulled Zhou Yang quickly into her duty room and closed the door.

"Are you crazy?" Qin Shuang finally couldn't hold back. "Why would you provoke the Eastern Depot?"

"I thought I was testing them." Zhou Yang poured himself a cup of tea, the tea was ice cold. "It turns out they were using me as bait."

"'Ghost's Sorrow' is one of the top three assassins under the Eastern Depot's chief eunuch. No one has ever seen his true face; all that is known is that when he strikes, his target is certain to die. He has never failed." Qin Shuang spoke rapidly, clearly in a hurry. "This is no ordinary assassin, Zhou Yang. You've run into a death knell this time!"

She walked to the table, opened a hidden compartment, and took out a small bronze tiger tally.

She pressed the tiger tally into a groove on the table.

A moment later, a faint mechanical sound came from behind the wall.

A secret door slowly opened.

Inside is her real intelligence network.

Qin Shuang lit a special, solitary lamp, its flame glowing a deep blue. She then tapped the wall against the light with a distinctive rhythm.

Half an hour later, a carrier pigeon flapped its wings and flew in through a secret passage, landing on her hand.

A small bamboo tube was tied to the pigeon's leg.

Qin Shuang took down the bamboo tube and pulled out the strip of paper inside.

Her hand trembled slightly after just one glance.

"Just like the message released by the Eastern Depot." Her voice carried a hint of weakness. "The highest-level secret report from the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion, 'Ghost's Sorrow,' entered the inner city an hour ago. Target: Northern Garrison."

The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion was the most elite intelligence agency secretly established by the imperial court, independent of the Six Ministries, serving only the emperor. Its secret reports represented absolute truth.

Zhou Yang, however, acted as if nothing had happened and took another sip of herbal tea.

"understood."

He put down his teacup.

"Where are you going?" Qin Shuang asked as he got up.

"The imperial prison." Zhou Yang's reply was nonchalant. "That Li Baoqing we arrested last night, didn't he still have a few accomplices who haven't spoken up yet?"

"You're still going to interrogate them at this hour?" Qin Shuang could hardly believe her ears. "Are you afraid the assassins won't be able to find your location? I've already ordered the entire Northern Garrison Command sealed off!"

"Good for the lockdown." Zhou Yang nodded. "If we let him wander around the streets and accidentally hurt civilians, that would be terrible."

He opened the door, and the rain outside seemed to have lessened a bit.

"You stay here, don't go anywhere." Zhou Yang turned to Qin Shuang and said, "Wait for my good news."

"Zhou Yang!"

Qin Shuang called out to him.

Zhou Yang stopped walking without turning around.

"That 'Ghost's Bane' is skilled in stealth and invisibility, and can kill without leaving a trace. He may have already infiltrated the group."

"I know," Zhou Yang said. "That's why I want to muddy the waters. The muddier the waters, the easier it is for the fish to surface."

After saying that, he strode into the rain.

Qin Shuang stood at the doorway, watching his figure disappear at the end of the corridor. She wanted to chase after him, but found her legs felt as heavy as lead.

She knew she couldn't stop him.

Once this man makes a decision, not even nine oxen could pull him back.

And he's right.

Rather than sit back and wait for death, it is better to take the initiative.

However, this method of attack is too crazy.

The whole Northern Garrison was buzzing with the news.

Zhou Baihu, unafraid of death, actually went to the imperial prison to interrogate people at this time.

Everyone thought he was crazy.

Inside the imperial prison, the stench of blood and mold mingled together, making one want to vomit.

Zhou Yang walked in, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

He had one of Li Baoqing's accomplices brought in.

He was a thin man named Zhao San. He had been held captive for a day and a night, but his bones were still intact.

Zhou Yang didn't ask him anything about the Heavenly Principle Sect.

He simply ordered his men to use every form of torture available in the imperial prison.

Whips, branding irons, salt water...

Zhao San's screams grew louder and louder, almost lifting the roof off the imperial prison.

The entire Northern Garrison Command could hear it clearly.

Zhou Yang sat beside him, holding a file in his hand, slowly reading through it. It was as if the piercing screams were merely background music.

An hour later, Zhao San was about to die.

Zhou Yang then put down the case file.

"Paint."

He said softly.

His subordinate immediately took out a confession, pressed Zhao San's hand down, and pressed a bloody handprint onto it.

Charge: Colluding with the Heavenly Principle Sect and plotting rebellion.

After doing all this, Zhou Yang stood up and walked out of the imperial prison.

He posted the confession directly on the bulletin board of the Beizhenfusi Yamen (Northern Garrison Command Office).

Everyone can see it.

This is an open provocation, a blatant declaration of war.

He was telling the entire capital, and the unseen assassin.

I, Zhou Yang, am right here.

If you've got the guts, then come at me.

The air in the Northern Garrison Command seemed to freeze.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for that unseen knife to pierce out from some corner.

Just then, another messenger arrived at Qin Shuang's duty room.

It's not from Tianji Pavilion.

They are from the Lu family.

He was a middle-aged man dressed as a servant. He didn't dare to look up and respectfully held a brocade box in both hands.

"Commander Qin, my master said that the goods must be delivered to you."

Qin Shuang opened the brocade box.

Inside was a black iron token with the character "陆" engraved on it.

This is the token to mobilize the city gate captain. With it, one can freely enter and exit any gate of the capital at night.

There was a note underneath.

The above is Lu Chenzhou's handwriting, which is vigorous and elegant.

There are only four characters.

May you have good fortune.

Qin Shuang gripped the note so tightly that her fingernails almost dug into her flesh.

Lu Chenzhou is drawing a line between himself and others.

He gave Zhou Yang a way out, but also made his stance clear: the Lu family would not interfere in this matter. Zhou Yang's life or death was entirely up to fate.

Qin Shuang gave a wry smile.

She left the duty room, intending to find Zhou Yang.

But when she arrived in the center of the courtyard, she was stunned by the scene before her.

Zhou Yang was standing in the courtyard.

He was surrounded by a group of captains, each holding a shovel.

They did not set any traps, nor did they strengthen their defenses.

Instead, they're... digging a hole.

Right in the center of the courtyard, beneath the smoothest bluestone slab, a huge pit was being dug out.

The soil was shoveled out one shovelful at a time and piled up to the side, where it mixed with rainwater to form mud.

"Lord Zhou, what... what is going on?" a captain couldn't help but ask, feeling that his master must have been driven mad.

"Burying things." Zhou Yang patted the mud off his hands.

"Bury what?"

"Bury something very expensive." Zhou Yang looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips.

The rain is still falling, a fine, dense drizzle.

Zhou Yang stood beside the ever-deepening pit, his gaze calmly fixed on the hazy sky.

He didn't seem to be waiting for an assassin.

It's more like waiting for an old friend with whom you've made an appointment to meet.

An eerie calm enveloped the entire Northern Garrison.

Everyone knew a storm was coming.

But at the eye of the storm, a pit was being dug.