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

When Zhou Yang returned to the room, Qin Shuang was standing by the window.

She held a copper coin in her hand, her fingertips repeatedly stroking the characters on it.

The rain was pattering outside the window, and the room was dimly lit.

"Is everything resolved?" She didn't turn around.

"Three are done." Zhou Yang poured himself a glass of iced tea and drank it down in one gulp. "The fish outside won't leave once they smell the blood."

Qin Shuang turned around.

Her face appeared somewhat pale in the dim light.

"You carved those four words to deliberately provoke them."

This is not a question.

Zhou Yang smiled.

He put down the teacup, the bottom of which made a crisp sound as it hit the table.

"The Northern Garrison Command is now an open pit."

He walked to the map and pointed to an inconspicuous corner of the capital.

"That old fox, Gui Jianchou, won't jump in there. He'll find another place, one he deems advantageous to him."

Qin Shuang looked in the direction he was pointing.

"A ghost market?"

"Yes, the Ghost Market." Zhou Yang nodded. "A melting pot of all sorts of people. The best hiding place, and also the best killing ground. He wants to drag the battlefield from the open to the shadows."

Qin Shuang frowned.

"It's too chaotic there, we..."

"That's why we have to go even more," Zhou Yang interrupted her. "Wherever he chooses the battlefield, we have to follow. Otherwise, we'll just be led by the nose like rabbits being chased by dogs."

His tone was very flat.

Qin Shuang looked at him, her lips moved, but in the end she didn't say anything.

"I'll go with you," she said.

Zhou Yang did not object this time.

He glanced at her, then pulled two sets of clothes out of the closet.

One set was a short, coarse cloth outfit, stiff and unwashed.

The outfit consisted of an old gray long gown with frayed edges on the cuffs.

"Change into these." He tossed the clothes to Qin Shuang. "Don't wear your brocade boots, put on a pair of cloth shoes. Also, wrap your hair up in cloth."

Qin Shuang held the coarse cloth garment and squeezed it with her fingers; the fabric felt somewhat rough to the touch.

She didn't ask any more questions, she just nodded.

Half an hour later.

Two ordinary people, whose identities were not discernible, walked out of the back door of the Northern Garrison Command.

Zhou Yang kept his head down and walked with his chest slightly hunched, like an ordinary peddler.

Qin Shuang followed half a step behind him, her head wrapped in a gray cloth, only half of her face showing. She looked meek and demure, like a quiet country woman.

The two of them, one in front of the other, blended into the noisy crowds of the capital.

The further west you go, the more dilapidated the streets become.

The air was filled with the fishy smell of the river, mixed with the sour smell of fermenting household garbage.

The pedestrians on the roadside have also changed.

Most of them were wary-looking gangsters or desperate criminals with scars on their faces.

They stopped in front of a shop with a sign that read "Zhao Family Tavern".

Zhou Yang pushed open the rickety wooden door, and a strong smell of alcohol and sweat hit him.

The shop was dimly lit, with only a few oil lamps barely illuminating the corners.

Several drunken men were slumped over the table, humming incoherently.

Zhou Yang walked straight through the lobby and into the backyard without glancing to the side.

Empty wine jars were piled up in the backyard, and a worker was yawning as he scrubbed the toilet.

Zhou Yang walked to a corner of the courtyard wall, where there was an inconspicuous hidden door.

He pressed on a loose brick on the wall.

The hidden door creaked open a crack.

A damp, rotten smell wafted out from behind the door.

Qin Shuang followed behind, her brows slightly furrowed.

Zhou Yang slipped inside, and she immediately followed.

The door closed behind me, and all the light from outside disappeared.

Before us lay a downward flight of stairs, guided only by a few dim oil lamps on the wall.

The steps were very long, as if they led to the underworld.

The air was filled with the mixed smells of earth, mold, and an indescribable herbal scent.

Zhou Yang walked ahead, his steps very light.

He could sense that many eyes were watching them from the darkness.

Those gazes felt like needles pricking my back.

He ignored it and continued walking.

Finally, the steps came to an end.

Suddenly, everything became clear.

This is a huge underground cave.

Hanging from the stalactites overhead are many luminous pearls that emit various colors of light, illuminating the entire space in a flickering light.

The cave was bustling with people, yet unusually quiet.

No one spoke loudly; transactions were conducted using gestures and extremely low voices.

Each simple stall displayed all sorts of strange and unusual items.

Human bones stuck in haystacks, eyeballs soaking in murky liquid, rusty yet strangely shaped weapons, and bottles and jars filled with various powders.

This is the Ghost Market.

A world entirely composed of darkness and self-interest.

Zhou Yang pulled down his hood and led Qin Shuang into the crowd.

He was like an ordinary treasure hunter, pausing briefly at each stall, picking up items to look at them, and then putting them down.

His gaze did not linger on any item for more than three seconds.

He was looking at people.

Look at the stall owner's eyes, look at the customers' movements, look at the idlers wandering in the crowd.

Everyone was wearing a mask.

There is no trust here, only transactions.

Qin Shuang followed closely behind him, her hand unconsciously resting on her waist.

There lies a soft sword, as thin as a cicada's wing.

Zhou Yang stopped in front of a stall selling medicinal herbs.

The stall owner was a thin, old man, huddled in a corner like a dead tree root.

A tattered cloth was spread on the ground in front of him, on which dozens of kinds of dried plants were laid out.

Most of them are common herbs.

Zhou Yang squatted down and picked up a blade of grass with serrated leaves.

"What is this?" he asked in a low voice.

The old man didn't even lift his eyelids, and his voice was so hoarse it sounded like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.

"For stopping bleeding."

How much?

"Ten coins per plant."

Zhou Yang took out a dozen or so copper coins from his pocket and placed them on the rag.

"I'll take them all."

He was referring to everything on the stall that looked like herbs.

The old man then slowly raised his eyelids.

His eyes were cloudy, as if covered by a layer of fog.

He glanced at Zhou Yang, then looked at Qin Shuang behind Zhou Yang.

Those eyes were cloudy, yet they seemed to be able to see through people's hearts.

The old man didn't speak, but simply stretched out his hand, which looked like a withered tree branch, gathered the herbs on the ground together, wrapped them in a tattered piece of oil paper, and handed them to Zhou Yang.

Just as Zhou Yang took the oil paper package, the old man reached out his hand again.

I now have a small, red plant in my hand.

It is only half a finger long, completely blood red, and has no leaves.

"This is for you." After saying that, the old man shrank back and closed his eyes again, as if nothing had happened.

Zhou Yang stared at the plant in his hand, momentarily stunned.

He recognized this thing.

It's called "Blood-Seeing Sorrow".

It has no toxicity and no medicinal effect.

But it has one characteristic.

Even a tiny drop of blood will instantly release an extremely strong, pungent smell that can be detected from miles away.

It's a great tool for tracking and setting traps.

Why did that old man give him this?

Zhou Yang looked up, wanting to ask again, but the old man had already fallen into a deep sleep.

He carefully tucked the "blood-seeding herb" into his pocket, picked up the bag of herbs, and continued walking forward.

Qin Shuang leaned closer and asked in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Does he know you?"

"I don't know him." Zhou Yang shook his head. "Maybe he just likes us, or maybe... he's just a crazy guy who likes to randomly give things away."

Qin Shuang didn't ask any further questions.

She knew that Zhou Yang was saying this because he didn't want to bring up the topic anymore.

Zhou Yang led her to a relatively quiet corner.

Here, a huge stalactite provides a clear view of most of the Ghost Market.

He turned his back to the crowd, pretending to be organizing the herbs he had just bought.

His fingers swiftly crushed the stem of a "blood-staining" plant.

A very faint, almost undetectable scent of grass wafted out.

Then, he lightly scraped his fingernail over a small cut he had made during the fight.

A drop of blood seeped out.

He mixed the blood droplets into the crushed "blood-seeing sorrow" and casually threw it on the ground.

After finishing all this, he continued to organize the herbs as if nothing had happened.

He didn't even glance at the thing he had thrown away.

Qin Shuang watched his actions and felt a chill run down her spine.

She is waiting.

Waiting for the moment the trap is closed.

Time passed little by little.

The ghost market remained quiet.

But Zhou Yang's lips slowly curled up.

coming.

A faint, almost imperceptible killing intent emanated from his left rear.

Like a snake, it slithers by silently.

He didn't move, but kept his head down.

The next moment, a silver needle as thin as a cow's hair shot out from behind a mask stall, silently piercing his back.

Just as the silver needle was about to touch the clothing.

Zhou Yang seemed to trip over something, and his body suddenly lurched forward.

The silver needle flew past his back and pierced the rock wall behind him, disappearing halfway in.

"Ouch!" Zhou Yang exclaimed, regaining his balance. He turned back to look at the silver needles on the rock wall, a blank expression on his face. "What are those?"

Those around him merely glanced at him before continuing with their own transactions.

In the ghost market, these minor conflicts are all too common.

Nobody will meddle in other people's business.

The mask vendor was still looking down, as if he were dozing off.

Zhou Yang turned around, grumbling, and continued tidying up his herbs.

But his ears stood up like a rabbit's.

In that instant, he had already pinpointed the exact location from which the killing intent was emanating.

The mask stall was about twenty steps away from them.

That was the first testing ground.

Not long after.

The second test has begun.

A burly man, drunk and staggering, walked toward them.

The strong smell of alcohol emanating from him was almost blinding.

The burly man walked up to Zhou Yang, stumbled, and crashed into him.

His speed was astonishing.

It was completely inconsistent with his swaying posture.

A dagger hidden in his sleeve, propelled by the impact, swiftly stabbed towards Zhou Yang's waist and abdomen.

This move was insidious and vicious.

Zhou Yang seemed oblivious and continued to squat there.

Just as the dagger was about to pierce his body.

He suddenly lifted the oil paper package in his hand upwards.

"Bang."

The paper package struck the burly man's wrist precisely.

The burly man felt a numbness in his wrist, and the dagger flew out of his hand.

With a "rip," it pierced into a nearby stall selling materials for monsters, nailing a dried beast leg to a wooden board.

"You motherfucker! Can't you watch where you're going?!" the burly man cursed, looking ready to fight.

Zhou Yang stood up and patted the dirt off his clothes.

He looked at the burly man with a calm expression.

"Bro, I was squatting here, you bumped into me, and you even cursed at me?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it made the burly man's cursing sound stuck in his throat.

The burly man looked into Zhou Yang's eyes and felt a chill run down his spine.

That look in his eyes was so calm.

It was as calm as a bottomless pool of stagnant water.

The burly man hesitated for a moment, then walked away cursing.

He walked up to the mask stall, whispered a few words, and then disappeared into the crowd.

Zhou Yang's gaze lingered on the burly man's back for a second.

Then, he squatted down again.

Qin Shuang's hand was already gripping the sword hilt.

She didn't understand why Zhou Yang wasn't making a move.

Wouldn't killing them be more direct?

Zhou Yang seemed to know what she was thinking.

He said in a very low voice, "Don't rush. The fish are testing the waters, checking if the hook is sharp. If we move, they'll all get away."

His voice was very steady.

"Wait a little longer."

Qin Shuang loosened the hilt of her sword.

She chose to believe Zhou Yang.

The third test came quickly.

This time, it wasn't an assassination, it was a riot.

Three thugs surrounded a peddler selling pills.

"Damn it, you're selling fake medicine! I've had diarrhea for three days straight after taking it!" a thug cursed.

The vendor turned pale with fright.

"Impossible! My medicine is all genuine!"

"Really? I'll show you what the real thing is right now!"

The thugs were about to make a move.

Instantly, everyone's attention was drawn to it.

In the midst of the chaos, a dark figure flashed out from behind the crowd, as fast as a ghost, and lunged straight at the back of Zhou Yang's head!

This time, it's a real killer!

Zhou Yang's body moved.

He neither turned back nor dodged.

He suddenly kicked a wine jar next to him.

"Clang!"

The wine jar smashed on the ground and shattered.

The murky wine, mixed with pottery shards, splashed towards the dark figure.

The shadowy figure had to pause for a moment to avoid the drinks.

It was that momentary pause.

Zhou Yang drifted away like a weightless leaf.

Instead of facing the shadowy figure, he charged in the opposite direction towards the three thugs who were causing a disturbance.

He's too fast.

No one saw how he got there.

Two muffled thuds were heard.

The two thugs clutched their throats and collapsed limply, their eyes wide open and their faces filled with terror.

The third thug just realized what was happening and tried to pull out his knife.

Zhou Yang's hand was already around his neck.

"Well……"

The thug's face instantly turned a deep liver color.

Zhou Yang lifted him up like a chick and turned towards the direction the dark figure had retreated.

The hustle and bustle of the ghost market seemed to stand still at this moment.

All eyes were on this spot.

The dark figure that had just launched the attack had retreated behind the mask stall.

Standing with the stall owner.

Zhou Yang looked at them and smiled.

He loosened his grip slightly.

The thug was panting heavily.

Zhou Yang threw the man forward, and the thug scrambled away.

He straightened his collar, then slowly raised his hand and pointed to the stall.

His voice was still not loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire corner.

"Isn't it time to end this game of hide-and-seek?"

"The mask seller, and that friend behind you."

"Shall we meet up and talk?"