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

At the third quarter of the hour of Xu (7:45 PM), the last drumbeat sounded.

Three miles outside the observatory, not a single person could be seen.

The autumn wind swirled, whipping up a few withered leaves. The leaves struck the bluestone slabs, making a dry, crackling sound. A chill filled the air, creeping down one's neck and into one's collar.

The light of lanterns could still be seen at the street corner in the distance. But that light was swallowed up by the night, leaving only a blurry warm yellow glow. The entire northern city of Anyang Prefecture was as if shrouded in a huge black cloth, eerily quiet.

This quiet is not the usual stillness and tranquility.

It was the silence before a sword was drawn.

In the attic of the teahouse, the window was only slightly ajar.

Lu Chenzhou peered through the crack and could see the outline of the observatory. It resembled a crouching giant beast, appearing only as a silent silhouette in the moonlight.

He had changed into a coarse cloth short shirt, but a repeating crossbow lay beside him. The crossbow's mechanism was polished to a gleaming shine, reflecting the taut lines of his jaw. His fingers tapped lightly on the mechanism from time to time, once, then again, the sound so soft that only he could hear it.

"Sir, everyone is in position."

A captain, also dressed in shorts, approached him, his voice barely audible, as if squeezed out between his teeth.

Lu Chenzhou didn't speak. He simply raised his hand, making a "wait" gesture. His gaze never left the observatory. Qin Shuang's command was clear: until the signal appeared, they were all stones, shadows, silent pieces of wood in the night.

Downstairs, several wonton stalls had closed up shop. The vendors pushed their carts, the wooden wheels creaking as they rolled across the stone pavement. The sound carried far across the empty street. Lu Chenzhou glanced at them, watching them disappear into the depths of the alley.

In every alley, there were his men. Fishermen in straw raincoats, men squatting in corners smoking pipes, and even two drunkards supporting each other, humming off-key tunes.

They are all Lu Chenzhou's knives. A knife must be hidden in the most inconspicuous place.

He withdrew his gaze and looked back at the observatory. The wind picked up, making a slight rustling sound on the window paper. Lu Chenzhou closed the window a little more, leaving only a crack. He could smell the faint, sour scent emanating from his own body, the coarse cloth shirt soaked with sweat.

He didn't care. He only cared whether tonight's hunt could pin the prey to the spot.

Meanwhile, the stone slabs on the top floor of the observatory were icy cold.

Three figures walked up the steps.

The leader was a tall, thin man who carried a long sword on his back. The scabbard was made of sharkskin and gleamed eerily in the moonlight. He walked silently, like a drifting shadow.

He walked to the center of the magic circle and squatted down. The magic circle was drawn with cinnabar, the lines intricate, emitting a faint, fishy smell. He stretched out his finger, dipped it in the cinnabar on the ground, and smelled it.

"The cinnabar is mixed with gold dust, no problem." His voice was a little hoarse, as if he hadn't drunk water in a long time.

Another short, stout protector followed. He looked around, his robes fluttering in the mountain wind. He hunched his shoulders and said, "The wind is too strong. Be careful when setting up the formation. Make sure the fire tumblers are well covered."

"Hmph, afraid of even a little wind, what kind of protector are you?" The tall, thin man stood up and snorted coldly.

The short, stout protector didn't dare to reply, but just rubbed his hands together.

The third person remained silent. He stood at the edge of the platform, his back to the two men, gazing at the dark city below. His shadow, stretched long by the moonlight, resembled a nail driven into the ground, motionless.

A metal ring hung from his waist, from which nine different metal plates were strung. When the wind blew, the plates would occasionally collide with each other, producing a dull sound, as if they were enveloped by something.

After inspecting the magic array, the tall, thin man walked over to him.

"Black Crow, everything's settled. The leader's side should be ready soon, right?"

The man known as Black Crow did not turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the foot of the mountain. He simply raised his hand slowly and pointed in a direction in the southwest corner.

That's the direction of the teahouse where Lu Chenzhou is hiding.

"There are flies watching us." Black Crow's voice was flat, revealing no emotion. "Don't move. Once the cult leader's 'star' falls, these flies will naturally be burned to death."

After he finished speaking, he fell silent. The other two protectors exchanged a glance, then shut their mouths and each found a spot, vigilantly watching their surroundings.

The observatory became the eye of the storm. Beneath the calm surface lay a taut bowstring.

And out of everyone's sight.

A wisp of smoke drifted out from a shadow on the south side of the observatory.

That's not smoke.

Zhou Yang pressed himself against the shadow of a wall. His breathing was so light it almost blended into the wind. The secret to "Invisible Trace" wasn't speed, but "immersion." He wanted to become a part of the night, a stone, a clump of weeds, anything that wouldn't attract attention.

A sentry from the Heavenly Principle Sect walked past the corner of the wall. His tinderbox flickered, and the light swept across the spot where Zhou Yang had just been. There was nothing there, only an old wall covered in moss.

The sentry yawned and continued his patrol. He was completely unaware that the moment he turned around, Zhou Yang had already reached the other side of the eaves.

Like a weightless cat, he lightly touched the roof tiles with his toes and floated away, landing in the shadow of another building. The entire process was completely silent.

The hollow, stabbing pain in my chest returned.

He frowned, but didn't stop. This little pain was nothing. What he cared more about was whether the lifespan he was sacrificing would yield enough value.

He circled the observatory's base like a patient hunter, searching for the weakest point in the defenses. Qin Shuang's smoke array gathered at the lower level; the black mist could confuse vision, but it also served as his best cover.

Zhou Yang's figure flashed past in the black mist.

He saw a drain. It was made of several stone slabs, covered with vines. He stopped and listened intently. There was only the faint sound of flowing water, but no human breathing.

right here.

Without hesitation, his body moved as supplely as a snake, silently slipping inside. The drain was narrow, filled with the stench of mud and rotting grass. Zhou Yang paid it no mind; he simply slowed his pace, inching his way deeper into the drain.

A dozen or so breaths later, a faint light appeared ahead.

He poked his head out.

At the base of the observatory lies a vast circular space. The stone base is covered with slippery moss, and occasionally a drop of water drips from a crack in the stone overhead, splashing into a small ripple on the ground.

Zhou Yang slid down the last slope and disappeared into the darkness.

He crouched behind the massive stone pillar, completely blending into the shadows.

He looked up.

Above him was that huge platform. He could hear faint footsteps on the stone slabs, and the whistling sound of the wind blowing through the cracks.

The protectors of the Heavenly Principle Sect were right above him. Lu Chenzhou's Imperial Guards surrounded the entire area. And the Grand Tutor, hidden behind the scenes, was probably somewhere, coldly observing all of this.

Everyone has set up their chess pieces.

And he, Zhou Yang, is the only one who doesn't play by the rules of the chessboard.

He reached out and gently touched the cold stone pillar beside him. The stone felt rough and damp with a chill. This chill traveled from his fingertips all the way to his heart.

He took a deep breath, and the stinging pain in his chest eased somewhat.

He adjusted his breathing, making his heartbeat slow and rhythmic, like the sound of dripping water.

He is waiting.

He was waiting for a signal, or perhaps creating one himself. His gaze was fixed on the very center of the platform above him. That was the core of the Heavenly Principle Sect's magical array.

That's also where he's going to make the cut tonight.