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

A speedboat on the Grand Canal.

The ship wasn't large, but its mast was very tall. A single black sail was hoisted.

There were no embroidered words on the sail, only a simple line drawing of a dragon. The ink-black color made it look as if the outline had been drawn with blood.

The boat moved quickly, breaking the surface of the water with a deep, rumbling sound.

Zhou Yang stood at the bow of the boat.

A breeze blew from the river, carrying moisture. It was a bit chilly.

He watched the scenery on both banks recede into the distance, gradually transforming from the yellowish-brown of the north to the verdant green of the south.

This ship was arranged for him by Qin Shuang.

The secret ships of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

As long as this black dragon sail is hoisted, no one will dare to inspect any checkpoints along the way.

A bugle call sounded from ahead.

A patrol boat emerged from the river bend and blocked the way.

A captain stood at the bow of the ship, followed by a dozen or so soldiers armed with weapons. Their expressions were serious, clearly indicating they were on official duty.

The boatman under the black dragon sail ignored him. He simply gripped the rudder tightly, keeping the ship's direction unchanged.

The two boats were about to collide.

The patrol captain shouted, "Who's on board? Stop for inspection!"

His voice was loud and carried the authority of an official.

A man surnamed Li, a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard beside Zhou Yang, made a move.

He didn't say anything, but walked to the mast and reached out to pull the black dragon sail up half an inch.

The movements are very slow.

The wind on the river seemed to stop for a moment.

On the patrol boat opposite, the captain's face turned pale instantly.

He seemed to have seen something extremely terrifying. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

He turned around abruptly and waved repeatedly at his men.

The patrol boat turned around hastily, its hull even rocking violently from the sudden turn. They sped back into the river bend as fast as they could, as if looking at it even once more would be a grave sin.

The river surface returned to calm.

Lieutenant Li walked back to Zhou Yang's side, his voice calm: "Sir, it's alright now."

Zhou Yang nodded.

He looked at the black dragon sail that had been lowered by half an inch, his eyes thoughtful.

This thing is even better than he imagined.

It does not represent the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

It was the emperor's wrath.

It is a dark blade that is only used internally, not externally.

Nobody wants to cause trouble.

The ship continued south.

Two nights later.

Inside the cabin.

There was only one oil lamp, its flame flickering gently.

Zhou Yang sat cross-legged on the bed. He closed his eyes.

He was blind when he went south. He knew nothing about the Jiangnan region.

This doesn't work.

He must take the initiative.

The thought surfaced deep within my mind.

"system."

"Burning away a day's lifespan."

The moment the words fell.

A faint chill spread from my heart, coursing through my veins to every part of my body. It felt like being pulled back from behind in winter.

He couldn't help but shudder.

Life is slipping away. A very clear feeling.

Immediately afterwards, a massive flood of information rushed into his mind.

It is not a picture.

It was countless words, lines, and data. They were rapidly arranging, combining, and intertwining in his mind.

It's as if an invisible hand is piecing together a giant jigsaw puzzle.

A moment later.

A complete map took shape in his mind.

Not just mountains and rivers, but also cities and roads.

There are also labels.

The annotations are densely packed.

Red, blue, black.

Yangzhou, the center of Jiangnan.

The three main forces are circled in different colors.

The canal gangs.

red.

They control all the waterways outside Yangzhou City—the lifeline of the Grand Canal. Every dock, every ferry crossing has their men. Their income comes from protection money paid to merchant ships, as well as some shady smuggling activities. Their leader is called "River-Turning Dragon" Yan Qi, a ruthless and seasoned veteran of the underworld.

Salt merchants.

blue.

They controlled the distribution of government-mandated salt. They had connections in the imperial court. They maintained thousands of guards in their homes. They didn't act directly, but half the business in Yangzhou was connected to them. The leaders were several prominent families, the Zhang and Zhao families, who were intermarried and united as one.

The Xie family, a family of scholars.

black.

This group was the most unique. The Xie family had produced many great scholars for generations, with students and former officials all over Jiangnan. They didn't get involved in business or the affairs of the underworld. But in Yangzhou, anyone who wanted to accomplish something big had to get past the Xie family. Their power was invisible. A single piece of paper, a single word, could ruin a salt merchant's business or shut down a canal gang's docks.

The map in my mind is still being refined.

Where were the headquarters of the Grand Canal Gang? Where were the salt merchants' warehouses? How many secret passages were hidden in the Xie family mansion?

Even the preferences and weaknesses of several key figures are revealed one by one.

Yan Qi, nicknamed "Turning River Dragon," is greedy and lecherous, but also very filial. He has a seventy-year-old mother who lives outside the city.

The head steward of the Zhang family, a salt merchant family, liked to drink a wine called "Daughter's Red" and would drink three ounces every day.

The head of the Xie family appears to be upright and honest, but in reality, he secretly possesses a forbidden book from the previous dynasty.

All the information was crystal clear.

Zhou Yang slowly opened his eyes.

He rubbed his temples.

The aftereffects of the reduced combustion life are still there; my head feels a bit throbbing.

But it was all worth it.

He is not blind now.

He was like a player who had taken out a map; in his eyes, the entire city of Yangzhou was a giant chessboard. The position of every piece was crystal clear.

He looked out the window at the dark river surface.

Jiangnan, here I come.

The afternoon of the third day.

The ship arrived at the Yangzhou dock.

Unlike the grandeur of the docks in Beijing, this place has a more down-to-earth, lively atmosphere.

The pier, paved with bluestone slabs, extends into the water. Countless boats are crowded together, their masts resembling a forest.

The crowd was full of people.

The shouts of those carrying goods, the cries of vendors, and the noise from teahouses and restaurants blended together.

The air was damp.

The steam carried a mixture of fishy smells, sweet aromas from the spice shop, and the scent of cheap cosmetics.

Zhou Yang's boat did not dock in the busiest area.

It stopped in the most secluded corner of the dock.

Just as we broke down, a man dressed in black crept up furtively. He wore a straw hat pulled low over his head, obscuring his face.

Lieutenant Li gave him a look.

The man immediately jumped onto the boat.

He walked straight up to Zhou Yang and knelt down on one knee.

"Wang Chong, a centurion of the Yangzhou garrison, pays his respects, sir."

His voice was very low and hoarse.

Zhou Yang hummed in agreement.

Wang Chong took out an oilcloth bag from his bosom and presented it with both hands.

"This is the money for your trip, sir, along with a token. Please check it."

Zhou Yang took it.

Very heavy.

He opened the oilcloth bag.

Inside was a black iron token engraved with the character "镇" (zhen, meaning "town"). This was a secret token of the Northern Garrison Command; seeing this token was equivalent to seeing the commander himself.

Beneath the token was a heavy cloth bag.

Zhou Yang knew what was inside without even opening it.

Golden leaves.

Qin Shuang's handiwork has always been very generous.

"Received the items," Zhou Yang said calmly. "You can leave now."

"Yes." Wang Chong didn't waste any words, kowtowed, got up and jumped off the boat, disappearing into the noisy crowd at the dock in a few flashes.

The whole process took less than half a minute.

Clean and neat.

Lieutenant Li began, "Sir, should we go to the government office first, or...?"

"I won't go to the government office."

Zhou Yang interrupted him directly.

He picked up the bag of gold leaves and weighed it in his hand.

The metal clashed, producing a deep, pleasant sound.

"We are businessmen."

Zhou Yang said.

"Go to the best inn and stay in the best courtyard."

One hour later.

Zhou Yang changed his clothes.

She wore a moon-white silk robe with subtle patterns, a fine palace sash tied around her waist, and a piece of mutton-fat jade pendant hanging from it. In her hand, she held a blank ebony folding fan.

Her entire demeanor changed drastically.

He went from being a commander of the Imperial Guard to a pampered rich young master.

Lieutenant Li and two other men also changed into servants' clothes and followed behind him.

They headed straight for Yingxianlou, the most luxurious restaurant in Yangzhou.

The three-story restaurant, with its carved beams and painted rafters, was exceptionally grand. Two brightly dressed waiters stood at the entrance, their faces bearing professional smiles.

Upon seeing Zhou Yang and his group approach, the sharpest-eyed waiter at the door immediately put on a smile and went to greet them.

"Oh, sir, you look unfamiliar. Where are you from?"

As he spoke, he quickly glanced at Zhou Yang's clothes. The fabric, the jade pendant, and the several composed servants following behind him all exuded one word—wealth.

Zhou Yang didn't say anything, but simply took out a piece of silver from his pocket and casually tossed it over.

The waiter caught it quickly, weighed it in his hand, and his smile became even more ingratiating.

"Sir, please come in! Are you here for a meal or to stay the night?"

"A place to stay," Zhou Yang finally spoke, his voice neither warm nor cold. "Make room for me in your best courtyard."

"Ready!" the waiter shouted at the top of his lungs, "Room Number One, for our distinguished guest!"

Immediately another man ran up and bowed to lead the way.

The layout of Yingxian Tower is indeed exquisite.

The first floor is the lobby, filled with diners enjoying drinks. The second floor has private rooms, separated by beaded curtains, from which the faint sounds of traditional Chinese string and wind instruments can be heard. The third floor has guest rooms, with thick carpets that allow for quiet movement.

Room No. 1 is located at the far end of the corridor.

As you push open the door, a faint fragrance wafts out.

The room was very large. The outer room was for receiving guests, furnished with a set of mahogany furniture, and seasonal fresh fruit was laid out on the table. The inner room was the bedroom, with the bedding made of the finest Suzhou embroidered silk.

The best part is that there's a terrace outside the bedroom.

Standing on it, you can see most of Yangzhou city. In the distance are rows of rooftops, and closer by are crisscrossing alleys.

The waiter was very considerate; he served tea and snacks and then left, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

Lieutenant Li looked around and whispered, "Sir, the security here is tight, so there shouldn't be any problems."

Zhou Yang walked onto the terrace.

The evening breeze carried a hint of warmth.

The night sky over Yangzhou is beginning to light up.

The lights in every household shone like scattered diamonds on black velvet. In the distance, from the direction of the Qinhuai River, the faint sound of singing from painted boats drifted over, as delicate as a wisp of smoke.

The air was filled with a mixture of smells.

It has the aroma of cosmetics, the smell of fermented grains, moisture, and food.

Zhou Yang took a deep breath.

This tastes just like money.

He looked down at the bustling city below.

The grain transport gangs, salt merchants, and the Xie family.

The three forces, like three intertwined yet mutually restraining venomous snakes, lurked above this prosperous city.

He, an intruder carrying a secret mission from the emperor, held a sharp knife and a bulging money bag.

Where will he start?

Zhou Yang's gaze fell on a cluster of dark buildings in the distance.

That was the headquarters of the Grand Canal Gang.

The lair of Yan Qi, the River-Turning Dragon.

He waved a folding fan, the fan surface gently tapping against his palm.

A subtle, almost imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Starting with a lecherous filial son seems like a good choice.