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

The courtyard of the Eastern Depot was still damp after the rain. Zhou Yang stood under the eaves of the blue-tiled roof, holding a tattered piece of paper in his hand. Dozens of names were written on the paper, with the label "covert agent" next to them. He folded the paper into his sleeve and glanced at the guards in the shadows.

The guard said nothing. Zhou Yang nodded slightly and turned to walk towards the official road in the north of the city. The daylight was fading, and the streetlights were sparse, reflecting the water stains on the soles of his boots.

Along the way, he compared the paper to his memory. Zhang Juzheng's name was at the top of the list, with the note "Smuggling by the Northern Barbarians." This clue was enough to tear open a crack in the officialdom. Zhou Yang chuckled inwardly; the seed of self-interest had been planted.

Upon arriving at the Zhang residence, night had already fallen. The gates were locked, and the lights were dim. Zhou Yang, unhurried, knocked three times on the old wooden door in the backyard with the fake seal he had obtained from the Eastern Depot. The door opened quietly, and the guards, seeing only a young man in a blue cloth short shirt, let him through.

Inside the room, Zhang Juzheng sat at a sandalwood desk, several rolls of sheepskin laid out before him. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows between his brows. Zhou Yang stepped forward, holding up an oil lamp.

"Lord Zhang," his voice was deep but carried an undeniable force, "did you personally sign off on the ironware from the Northern Barbarians?"

Zhang Juzheng raised his eyes, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. The light flashed in his eyes like a blade.

"This matter has nothing to do with me," he replied calmly. "If there were any personal gain involved, it would be outside."

Zhou Yang smiled and lightly tapped a piece of sheepskin on the table with his fingertip. The sheepskin contained a detailed packing list of ironware, and at the end was the seal of the Northern Di envoy.

"You see, the recipient listed on this list is the Northern Di's 'Sulu'. Moreover, the weight of this batch of ironware is enough to supply 100,000 cavalry."

Zhang Juzheng's hand trembled slightly, but he didn't show it. He pushed the sheepskin towards the candlestick beside him, as if he were covering something up.

Zhou Yang remained calm and turned to leave. The wind outside lifted his cloak, carrying away the chill.

---

The next day, the prison was stuffy and damp in the early morning. Li Baoqing was locked in a stone slab cell, the torchlight flickering in his eyes. Zhou Yang stood at the door, a long, thin steel needle in his hand.

"Baoqing," Zhou Yang said in a low voice, "your father wants to use you as a sacrifice."

Li Baoqing's eyes widened suddenly, and his breathing became rapid. Blood churned on his cheeks like ripples in a cold wind.

"Father...he will..." His voice trembled, and his words broke off.

Zhou Yang gently sliced ​​open Li Baoqing's palm with the steel needle, and drops of blood dripped onto the stone slab, leaving faint red marks.

"Write the truth in blood," Zhou Yang said calmly. "Your father is not the only sinner."

Li Baoqing raised his hand, his fingertips trembling, blood trickling down between his fingers. He wrote four lines in blood: "Minister Zhang Juzheng, corrupt, smuggled, accepted bribes, misled the country and harmed the people." With each character he wrote, the pain in his palm felt like a knife cutting into it.

After finishing writing, Li Baoqing rolled up the paper tightly and handed it to Zhou Yang. Zhou Yang took it, his brows furrowing slightly. The handwriting in the blood-written letter trembled slightly, yet every word seemed to draw blood.

"Remember this," Zhou Yang said in a low voice, "if anything changes, be sure to send this paper out."

Li Baoqing nodded, a resolute glint in his eyes. It was a betrayal of his father, but also a redemption for himself.

---

Night fell again. Zhou Yang placed Zhang Juzheng's sheepskin and Li Baoqing's blood-written letter into an old wooden box, on which was engraved the word "Pray for Blessings." He mounted a black horse and galloped toward the main gate of the government office.

Outside the city gate, Lu Chenzhou stood on the stone steps, holding a roll of thin paper in his hand, his brows furrowed. Upon seeing Zhou Yang, Lu Chenzhou remained silent, only nodding slightly in acknowledgment.

Zhou Yang handed the wooden box to Lu Chenzhou, his voice low: "These two pieces of evidence are enough to shake the Emperor's heart."

Lu Chenzhou opened the box and first saw the blood-written letter. The bloodstains appeared dark red under the light, and the writing was clear. Then, he unfolded the sheepskin and saw the list of ironware from the Northern Barbarians and the envoy's seal.

"If what you say is true, His Majesty would never stand idly by in the face of such a crime." A hint of surprise flashed across Lu Chenzhou's brows.

Zhou Yang didn't say anything more, but simply handed over a small piece of iron. It was a fragment of an iron ingot that he had stolen from the Zhang residence, a physical object symbolizing evidence.

Lu Chenzhou put away the iron plate and quickly left. The night wind stirred up dust, highlighting the determination of the two figures.

---

The following morning, Lu Chenzhou stepped through the Dragon Gate of the Forbidden City and went directly into the Emperor's study. The Emperor was engrossed in reviewing memorials, his brow slightly furrowed.

Lu Chenzhou handed over the wooden box and said in a low voice, "Your Majesty, I have important matters to report."

The emperor raised his hand, signaling Lu Chenzhou to continue. Lu Chenzhou spread the blood-written letter and sheepskin on the table, pointing to the blood-written words and saying, "This is concrete evidence of the Northern Barbarians smuggling ironware, with Minister Zhang personally involved."

The emperor's hand trembled slightly, and a flash of anger crossed his eyes. The candlelight reflected on the paper, making the blood-written words appear exceptionally crimson.

"Zhang Juzheng," the emperor's voice was deep and powerful, "such crimes cannot be tolerated."

He tapped his fingers on the table and beckoned a eunuch to hand him the imperial brush. Instantly, the emperor's order echoed in the inner courtyard: immediately investigate the Ministry of War, suspend Li Tingxuan and Zhang Juzheng from their posts, and place them under house arrest until the truth is revealed.

The news spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the capital. In the Ministry of War's main hall, officials were in a state of panic. Li Tingxuan's seat was empty, save for the flickering light of a single lamp. Zhang Juzheng's seal had been confiscated, and the clear sound of a copper bell echoed in the silence.

"Who would resort to such underhanded tactics?" an official muttered under his breath.

Another official clenched his fist, his voice trembling: "If there are other hidden moles, I'm afraid even more people will fall."

At the same time, a muffled knock came from the door of Commander Chen's residence. The guard outside reported in a low voice, "The Emperor has issued an edict, and those implicated will be demoted."

Commander Chen stood on the roof beam, his eyes sharp as knives. Before he could even think, his hand gripped his sword tightly, as if to sever the fire of anger within him.

Inside the Ministry of War, documents piled up like mountains. Every volume was filled with officials' names, marked "Pending Verification." Auditors busily flipped through them, their brows furrowed.

"Once the investigation is complete," the auditor whispered, "all those involved will be dealt with accordingly."

As night fell, the lights of the capital city appeared even dimmer after the rain. Zhou Yang stood atop the city wall, gazing at the distant, dim lights. His hand gently brushed against his sleeve, where an envelope, still stained with blood, remained pressed against his chest.

A cold wind blew by, ruffling the hem of his coat. There was no joy in Zhou Yang's eyes, only calculations for the next move in the game.

"The plan is complete," he muttered to himself, "all that's left is to close the net."

The sound of hooves came from the city gate, the knight's armor striking the stone path. Zhou Yang turned and stepped into the night, his figure disappearing between the gaps in the lamplight.

Li Tingxuan paced back and forth in his study.

The Persian carpet beneath his feet was soft and yielding, yet he felt as if every step was on a knife's edge. This mansion, once a symbol of his power in the capital, had now become an exquisite prison. Outside the door stood the Imperial Guards. They neither went in nor came out, simply guarding the place, like watching a trapped beast.

He dared not look out the window. He was afraid of seeing the scrutinizing gazes outside. Those colleagues who had once greeted him with smiles were probably now waiting to see him make a fool of himself.

It's been a whole day.

From the moment Qin Shuang took him away, then released him "innocently" and sent him back to this mansion, he had been waiting. Waiting for a result, a trial. But nothing came. This deathly silence of waiting was more agonizing than any torture.

His heart felt like it was being submerged in cold water, slowly sinking.

No. We can't just sit here and wait to die.

Li Tingxuan stopped in his tracks. He walked to the row of huge rosewood bookshelves. These were his precious treasures, his last hope. His fingers traced the spines of the books, finally stopping at an inconspicuous spot.

There is a protrusion there carved with orchids.

He took a deep breath and pressed down hard.

With a soft click, the bookshelf slid silently to one side, revealing a hidden compartment. This was his secret stash. Inside were no gold or silver, only a few account books. Black covers, blank and unwritten. These were the real accounts. They recorded all the shady dealings of the Ministry of War's Supply Department over the years, every name, every penny, clearly documented.

As long as the ledger is still there, he still has the leverage to turn the tables.

He reached out and slipped his hand into the hidden compartment.

But what my fingertips touched was the cold wooden board.

It's empty inside.

The air seemed to have been sucked out in that instant. Li Tingxuan's throat went dry, and his heart clenched. He couldn't believe it, and reached in again, groping around. Empty. Nothing but dust.

The last string broke.

He slumped to the floor, leaning against the cold bookshelf, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. It's over. It's all over.

Just then, the study door creaked open.

There was no knocking.

Li Tingxuan turned around abruptly, his heart almost leaping out of his throat.

A person stood there at the door.

It's Zhou Yang.

He had changed into a clean blue cloth robe, and his hair was neatly combed. He even carried a food box covered with a red cloth. He didn't look like an executioner coming to take lives, but rather like someone visiting relatives and friends.

"Lord Li," Zhou Yang walked in, his footsteps light, "Have you had dinner yet? I just passed by Jufulou and picked up some snacks."

His tone was very casual, as if he were chatting with an old friend.

Li Tingxuan stared intently at him, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

Zhou Yang smiled, not waiting for his reply. He walked to the desk and put down the food box he was carrying. Then, he pulled out a few books from his sleeve.

Black cover.

It was exactly what Li Tingxuan had been searching for in the hidden compartment.

Zhou Yang tossed it away casually.

"Snapped!"

Several account books lay scattered on the ground, their ink stains and numbers glaringly obvious under the light.

"Lord Li, are you looking for this?" Zhou Yang's voice carried a hint of mockery.

Li Tingxuan's body trembled violently. He reached out as if to pick it up, but then let it fall limply to his side. A hoarse sound came from his throat, like a broken bellows.

Zhou Yang ignored his reaction. He pulled up a chair, sat down casually, and crossed his legs.

"Oh, right, there's something else I forgot to mention," Zhou Yang said, as if he had just remembered. "I found it too troublesome, so I had several hundred copies made. This afternoon, everyone in the capital—the Six Ministries, the Nine Ministers, the various prefectural governors, the governor's offices, the Hanlin Academy… received a copy. Guess how happy they are now?"

Li Tingxuan's eyes widened suddenly, his pupils bloodshot. He could almost see a scene unfolding before his eyes. The entire officialdom of the capital was currently in turmoil because of these few account books. Those he had dragged into this mess, those he had offended, were probably sharpening their knives right now.

His name has become a target of public condemnation.

Zhou Yang nodded in satisfaction as he looked at his distraught appearance.

He stood up, walked to Li Tingxuan, and squatted down. Their eyes met.

"There's one last piece of news." Zhou Yang's voice was very low, carrying an almost cruel tenderness.

He paused for a moment, enjoying the look of extreme fear on Li Tingxuan's face.

"Your son, Li Baoqing, is in prison," Zhou Yang said, emphasizing each word. "The news just came in that he committed suicide out of fear of punishment."

"Fear of punishment...suicide?" Li Tingxuan murmured to himself, as if chewing on these words.

"Yes." Zhou Yang stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from his clothes. "Hanging. It's said to be peaceful. His Majesty is merciful, considering his youth and ignorance, and has even allowed your family to collect the body and give him a dignified funeral. That's quite a favor."

Li Tingxuan did not move again.

He seemed not to understand what Zhou Yang was saying. His eyes were empty, devoid of any light.

A very, very long time passed.

He suddenly laughed.

The laughter was soft, starting like a leaky bellows, intermittent. Then it grew louder and sharper. There was no joy, no sorrow in the laughter, only a utter and pure absurdity.

He laughed for a long time, laughing until tears streamed down his face.

In the study, only his manic laughter remained.

Zhou Yang stood quietly to the side, watching everything. His face was expressionless, like that of an observer.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

Li Tingxuan's body swayed suddenly, as if he had exhausted all his strength. He raised his head and looked blankly ahead.

Not far ahead stood a large, vermilion pillar supporting the crossbeams. Its gleaming paint reflected the lamplight.

He let out a roar that sounded unlike anything a human could make.

With his last ounce of strength, he rammed himself against the pillar.

Boom!

A muffled thud.

It was like running into a stubborn rock.

Li Tingxuan's body slid limply to the ground. His forehead was now a gaping, bloody hole. Blood trickled down the vermilion pillar, staining the carpet a large dark red patch.

His last open eyes were wide open, reflecting Zhou Yang's calm image.

Zhou Yang looked at him.

There was no smugness in his eyes, nor any remorse. He was simply looking at something that was completely broken.

He bent down and picked up an account book from the ground. He flicked the dust off the cover with his fingers, as if brushing away the dust from an old object.

Then he turned around.

As he reached the door, he turned back and glanced at the corpse and the pool of blood on the ground.

"Lord Li, you've lost out on this deal."

He said softly.

After saying this, he picked up the food box from his desk and left the study. He gently closed the door, shutting out the stench of blood from the room.

The courtyard was quiet under the cover of night. The wind rustled through the treetops.

Zhou Yang walked at a leisurely pace. When he reached the entrance of the mansion, the Imperial Guard captain guarding the entrance immediately bowed in salute.

"Master Zhou."

Zhou Yang nodded and handed over the food box.

"I just bought them, they're still warm. Here, you can have some."

The captain was taken aback, then quickly took it.

Zhou Yang didn't speak again. He walked down the steps and disappeared into the night of the capital. His hands were empty, and his steps were light. It was as if he had only done a trivial matter.

In the distance, the faint sound of the night watchman striking the gong could be heard.

"Thump...thump thump..."

"The weather is dry, so be careful with fire!"

The sound was long and drawn out, drifting far into the quiet night.