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

Its daybreak.

Zhou Yang sat in Li Tingxuan's study, holding a cup of tea that had gone cold.

Outside the window, officers of the Embroidered Uniform Guard were moving in and out of the courtyard. The sounds of footsteps, boxes being dragged, and low reprimands mingled together, like a chaotic melody.

The confiscation of the Li family's property was expected. Last night, the imperial decree was issued, and Zhou Yang led his men to break down the gates. Li Tingxuan became a prisoner while still dreaming. The weeping concubines and terrified servants were temporarily confined to the back courtyard.

Everything was in good order.

But Zhou Yang felt uneasy.

Li Tingxuan, a royal merchant, was also a money launderer for the Eastern Depot. The money he embezzled was enough to buy half of the capital. But the assets seized last night, while matching the accounts, were merely "matching."

It's too clean.

Like a meticulously arranged stage, the actors have left, but the props remain exactly the same.

Zhou Yang put down his teacup and stood up. He didn't look at the gold and silver jewelry, but went straight to the deep courtyard of the mansion. That was Li Tingxuan's private storeroom, a place even his most favored concubine couldn't enter.

The Imperial Guards waiting outside bowed immediately upon seeing him.

"Master Zhou."

Zhou Yang didn't say anything, but simply pushed open the heavy ironwood door.

A strange smell wafted out. It wasn't the smell of aged wood, nor the scent of books. It was a very faint yet persistent medicinal smell, with a hint of cloying sweetness. Like honey that had been overcooked, or like rotten flowers.

He frowned and went inside.

The warehouse was large, with rows of shelves filled with various boxes. Most of them were empty, clearly because Li Tingxuan had moved the goods beforehand. Zhou Yang's gaze swept across the warehouse, finally settling on a shelf in the innermost corner.

There were no boxes on the shelf, only a few wooden barrels about half a person's height.

The buckets were made of fine nanmu wood and were tightly bound together. Zhou Yang stepped forward and tapped one of them with his finger.

The voice was muffled.

He gestured to the captain who followed him in: "Open it."

The captain found a crowbar and, with some effort, pried open the bucket lid. An even stronger odor wafted out. Zhou Yang took a half step back, his expression changing.

The barrel contained neither wine nor grain.

It is a medicinal herb.

The herbs were stacked neatly in layers. A thick layer of ice, mostly melted, covered the top, creating a misty atmosphere. These medicinal herbs were of exceptional quality, clearly not ordinary. The crimson vines resembled dried blood. The mushrooms were as white as jade, their caps riddled with tiny holes. And there were clumps of dark, gritty things, emanating an earthy and fishy odor.

Zhou Yang recognizes these things.

His mind felt like it had been pricked by a needle.

He had seen the recipes for these things before. They were in Fang Tian's inconspicuous booklet. The recipes that the Heavenly Principle Sect used to refine those "elixirs".

That pill could cause a person's strength to surge and their spirit to become highly excited in a short period of time, but the price was the depletion of their essence and blood, eventually turning them into a pool of pus. Fang Tian himself had taken it.

Zhou Yang's heart skipped a beat.

He crouched down, picked up a little bit of melted water from beside the ice, and brought it to his nose. The cloying sweetness intensified. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and gently licked it.

Bitter, astringent, and with a slight numbness.

that's it.

"Li Tingxuan..." Zhou Yang murmured the name softly, "You really went all out."

He stood up, his gaze sharpening. Imperial merchants, the Eastern Depot, the Heavenly Principle Sect. How could these three things be mixed up? Li Tingxuan was just a merchant; why would he hide these things? To supply the Heavenly Principle Sect?

An idea flashed through his mind.

He reached into the wooden tub, feeling around under the herbs. His fingers carefully traced the sides of the tub, inch by inch. Suddenly, his fingertips touched an uneven indentation.

A thought struck him, and he pressed down hard.

"Click".

A soft sound.

At the bottom of the bucket, a plank bounced up.

There's another layer underneath.

The captains were stunned. They searched for a long time but found no hidden secrets.

Zhou Yang remained calm as he reached inside. There was only one thing in the hidden compartment: a token the size of a palm.

The token was cast from black iron, cool to the touch, and quite heavy. It had no patterns, only two characters engraved in an archaic script.

Natural law.

Zhou Yang's pupils suddenly contracted.

He gripped the token, the icy touch spreading from his fingertips throughout his body.

This thing is not a fake. The rough casting marks, the chiseled strokes, are exactly the same as the broken token left by Fang Tian.

Therefore, Li Tingxuan was not only colluding with the Eastern Depot, but he was also an outer member of the Heavenly Principle Sect, or rather, a money bag and a transit point for supplies for the Heavenly Principle Sect in the capital.

Zhou Yang recalled the note he had found in Chen Qianhu's study, which contained only the character "Tian" (天, meaning heaven). He had assumed that Chen Qianhu was pleading for help from the Heavenly Principle Sect.

Now it seems things aren't that simple.

The waters of the capital were far deeper than he had imagined. The Heavenly Principle Sect was like a giant net, lurking in the shadows. Commander Chen was caught in the net, as was Li Tingxuan. They were merely two nodes in that net.

Where is the center of this net? Who cast it?

Zhou Yang placed the token back in the hidden compartment and covered it with the wooden board. He straightened up, his face expressionless. He then gave an order to the captain behind him:

"All the medicinal herbs here are to be sealed up. Send a team to guard them 24 hours a day. No one, including Commander Qin, is allowed to approach without my order."

"Yes, sir!" The captain immediately accepted the order.

Zhou Yang turned around and walked out of the warehouse.

The sunlight outside was a bit dazzling. He squinted, adjusting his eyes for a moment. The commotion inside the manor continued, but to him, those sounds already sounded distant.

Fang Tian's face flashed through his mind. That smiling man who used him as a pawn, only to be ultimately defeated by him. Fang Tian was merely a branch leader of the Heavenly Principle Sect, an insignificant nobody.

Yet even such a minor character could stir up such a huge storm in Anyang County.

What about the entire Heavenly Principle Sect? What exactly is the purpose of this massive organization hidden in the shadows?

Zhou Yang walked into the study and sat down again.

He poured himself a cup of hot tea, but this time he didn't drink it; he just watched the steam rise from the cup.

His hand unconsciously moved towards his chest.

There, close to his body, lay a piece of paper. On it were written four words: Fragment of the Dragon's Spine.

Repairing it would require an immense amount of lifespan. Previously, this was an unattainable dream for him. He could only scrape together a little lifespan from the dead through repeated battles, living like a beggar.

but now……

He watched the busy figures of the Imperial Guards outside the window.

The supervisory power of the Ministry of War's Supply Department. This is a power that can turn lead into gold. How much profit can he squeeze out of it? How many rare and precious treasures can he exchange for?

not enough.

Far from enough.

The Heavenly Principle Sect. It is a treasure trove. A walking repository of lifespan.

What did he gain by killing Fang Tian? Cultivation techniques, increased power, and a longer lifespan. But what if he had eradicated the entire Heavenly Principle Sect's roots in the capital?

What will he get?

Zhou Yang's lips slowly curled upwards. It wasn't a warm smile, but rather a hunter's excitement at spotting his prey, and a thirst for bloodshed.

He picked up the pen on the table and spread out a sheet of white paper.

He didn't write immediately, but thought for a moment. He remembered Fang Tian's booklet, the medicinal formulas, and the black iron token.

A vague clue gradually became clear in his mind.

He was no longer content to be a purgatory, nor was he content to be a money-grubbing official.

He wanted to be the one who dug the hole.

Following Li Tingxuan's trail, and the medicinal herbs and tokens he left behind, what could he possibly uncover? Other strongholds of the Heavenly Principle Sect in the capital? Other "Li Tingxuans"? Or even... a higher being?

The pen tip fell, and several names were written on the paper.

Li Tingxuan. Chen Qianhu. Fang Tian.

He connected the names with lines, and finally wrote two words heavily in the middle.

Natural law.

After he finished writing, he crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the brazier beside him.

A flame shot out, and the paper instantly turned to ashes.

He stood up and straightened his flying fish robe. The robe still carried the dampness of last night's rain, but at this moment, he felt full of energy.

He stepped out of his study and ordered the captain at the door, "Relay my message: bring Li Tingxuan to the imperial prison. I want to interrogate him personally."

"yes!"

Zhou Yang stepped down the stairs.

The sunlight shone on him, casting a long shadow. His steps were steady, each one feeling as if he were stepping firmly on solid ground.

He was going to the imperial prison. He would find what he needed there.

The Heavenly Principles Cult has been hiding for long enough.

Now, it's time for them to come out and see the light of day.