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

The Salt Transport Office resembled a lurking beast in the night. Its black tiles and upturned eaves were outlined in a somewhat menacing manner by the moonlight.

Zhou Yang squatted on the rooftop across the street. The night breeze was a bit chilly, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead. His gaze was calm as it swept over the cluster of buildings.

The high walls were topped with broken glass to deter thieves. Two lanterns at the entrance cast a dim, yellowish light on two listless guards. The spears in their hands were stuck in the ground like fire pokers.

This is just the outside.

Zhou Yang knew there were patrol teams inside the walls. Overt and covert sentries were interspersed throughout. The Salt Transport Office was Yangzhou's money bag; its defenses would never be relaxed.

Forcing your way in is the act of a fool.

He needs a foolproof solution.

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into his body. The candle, representing his lifespan, burned silently. He could feel his life slipping away, every single second.

But now, he needs to make it burn even brighter.

"System, burn-in life."

He was silent.

"Burning three days of lifespan to derive the top-tier lightness skill 'Shrinking the Earth to an Inch'. Confirm?"

"confirm."

A surge of intense heat exploded from his heart, coursing through his veins to every part of his body. It felt like being force-fed a strong liquor, his internal organs burning. Fine beads of sweat appeared on his skin, rising in wisps of white steam.

He couldn't help but let out a muffled groan. His body trembled slightly.

This is the price. Trading life for power is always a painful transaction.

But the pain lasted only a moment.

Immediately afterward, a deluge of information flooded his mind. It wasn't text, nor images. It was countless flowing lines, countless flashing nodes. It was a dynamic, three-dimensional map. The map marked all patrol routes, all blind spots of the guards, and even the intervals between their heartbeats.

"Shrinking the earth to an inch..."

Zhou Yang opened his eyes. The world had changed in his eyes.

The air was no longer empty. He could sense the flow of the wind, feel the resistance and tension in every inch of space. The rooftop ten feet away seemed almost within reach. He could clearly hear the heartbeat of the guard yawning inside the wall.

He moved.

His figure flickered, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, silently merging into the night.

Without a running start, without exerting any force, he simply took a single step, and his entire body appeared on another rooftop three zhang away. The tiles beneath his feet made not a sound.

Inside the wall, two night patrol guards carrying lanterns strolled by slowly.

"Zhang San, the moonlight is lovely tonight."

"What's so good about it? It's windy and freezing. Let's hurry up and finish this trip so we can go back and have something hot to drink."

As they chatted idly, no one noticed that a shadow had just swept past three feet above their heads. The shadow was as light as a falling leaf, without stirring up a gust of wind.

Zhou Yang's figure kept appearing and disappearing among the artificial hills, corridors, and bushes in the courtyard.

His movements were strange. Sometimes he would take a step and disappear into thin air, only to reappear a dozen steps away the next moment. Other times he would just sway slightly in place, as if he were gliding across the ground.

This is called "shrinking the earth to an inch." It's not true teleportation, but rather forcibly folding away distances to achieve maximum displacement with minimal steps. To others, he appears as a ghost.

He easily evaded three patrols, bypassed a yard with vicious dogs, and even passed by a dozing sentry, snatching the gourd from his waist without the man noticing.

Soon, he arrived outside the study of Qian Chang, the deputy salt transport commissioner.

The study light was still on. It seems that this Lord Qian is a diligent and "good official".

Zhou Yang's figure was pressed against the shadows in the corner, like a lifeless statue. He listened intently.

The sound of abacus beads clicking could be heard from inside. There was also a fawning male voice.

"My lord, this time the accounts are flawless. The officials above couldn't find a single fault with them."

"Hmph, flawless?" A slightly hoarse voice rang out, tinged with arrogance. "That's because you don't know how powerful it is. Accounting isn't about creating a seamless loophole, it's about having 'cracks.' Those cracks have to be ones we can squeeze into ourselves, but others can't see through. Understand?"

"I understand, I understand! The adult is truly wise!"

A cold smile curled at the corner of Zhou Yang's lips.

Pushing the door open wasn't a good option. He looked up at the study window. The window paper was of fine, durable quality, letting in a light.

He took a thin bamboo tube from his pocket. One end of the tube was hollow. He held it up to the window paper and blew on it gently.

A small pinch of colorless and odorless fine powder was evenly sprinkled on the window paper. It was a special kind of medicinal powder that would dissolve in the wind and harden in the light.

A moment later, the once sturdy window paper became as brittle as a piece of paper.

Zhou Yang stretched out his finger and gently touched the center of the window paper.

"laugh."

A small hole appeared. No sound was made. He then slowly enlarged it with his finger, creating a hole large enough for him to observe.

He leaned closer with his eyes.

Inside the study, a fat, middle-aged man sat in a grand chair, legs crossed. He was Qian Chang, the deputy salt commissioner.

Beside him, a thin clerk was bowing and scraping.

Qian Chang's study was not tastefully furnished. A painting of a tiger descending a mountain hung on the wall; the tiger's eyes, made of glass, gleamed fiercely in the candlelight. A strange odor, a mixture of sandalwood and the smell of money, filled the air. On the desk, besides a pile of account books, lay an unfinished game of Go.

"Alright, you can go now." Qian Chang waved his hand. "Remember, keep your mouth shut."

"Yes, yes, don't worry, sir!"

The advisor withdrew and carefully closed the door behind him.

Qian Chang was left alone in the study.

He stood up, stretched his obese body, and walked to a bookshelf against the wall. He reached out and tapped on the third shelf of the books.

"Click".

With a soft click, the bookshelf split open, revealing a small hidden compartment behind it.

Zhou Yang's eyes lit up.

found it.

Qian Chang pulled a wooden box from a hidden compartment. He opened the box, inside were several thick blue-covered booklets. He greedily flipped through them, a fascinated smile on his face. That was his true wealth.

Zhou Yang stopped waiting.

He moved with incredible speed, his figure flashing past the window before silently appearing on the beam of the study. Like a gecko, he clung to the beam, even his breathing becoming extremely soft.

Qian Chang was completely unaware. He was so engrossed in reading that he even started licking his fingers and counting something page by page.

Zhou Yang lowered a silk thread, as thin as a cow's hair, from the beam. At the end of the thread was a small hook.

He held his breath and carefully manipulated the silk thread.

The hook swayed gently as it slowly descended. Its target was the blue ledger that Qian Chang held in his hand.

The candlelight flickered, and the shadows of the silk threads swayed on the wall.

Qian Chang seemed to sense something and looked up.

Zhou Yang's heart leaped into his throat. He froze on the roof beam, completely still.

Qian Chang's gaze swept across the roof beams, but there was nothing there except for their shadows. He muttered, "The wind is really strong," and then lowered his head again, continuing to immerse himself in his wealth.

Zhou Yang breathed a sigh of relief.

opportunity.

The silk thread fell, and the hook caught precisely on the cover of the ledger.

He pulled gently.

The ledger made no sound as he slowly, inch by inch, lifted it up.

After receiving the ledger, Zhou Yang did not leave immediately. He still had something to do.

He remained hidden in the shadows of the roof beam, taking out several more blank booklets and a charcoal pencil. Relying on his photographic memory and the focus he had been pushed to the limit while deducing the cultivation technique, he began to copy it at lightning speed.

His pen flew across the paper, making a soft rustling sound. The sound was so faint that it was completely drowned out by the occasional satisfied hums from Qian Chang.

One book, two books...

Half an hour later, the transcription was completed.

He carefully placed the original blue ledger back in its original position with silk thread, exactly as before. Qian Chang still didn't notice; he was too engrossed in reading and didn't realize that the ledger had been "borrowed."

Then, Zhou Yang took out a throwing knife from his pocket.

The blade is long and narrow, gleaming with a ghostly blue light. The hilt is made of black iron, with a small character "锦" (jin) engraved on it.

These are the standard throwing knives of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

He didn't throw the knife at Qian Chang. That would have been too stupid.

He gently but forcefully inserted the tip of the throwing knife into a crack in the desk surface. Most of the blade was submerged, leaving only a small section of the hilt and the gleaming tip visible.

The character "锦" (jin) was faintly visible in the candlelight.

This is a warning. A silent, yet incredibly arrogant declaration.

The Embroidered Uniform Guards have been here.

Having done all this, he silently returned the way he came and slipped out through the small hole in the window. He even remembered to casually hang the gourd from the sentry's waist on a rock in the artificial hill along the way.

The person left, but the belongings remained.

After leaving the study, Zhou Yang did not rush to leave.

He wandered to the backyard. The backyard was large, with a small garden and a woodshed for storing odds and ends.

He took out a tinderbox and blew on it.

The flames danced in the night wind.

He walked to the door of the woodshed and could smell the dry firewood inside. Without hesitation, he threw a burning tinder through the crack in the door.

The flames instantly licked the dry firewood.

With a loud bang, flames shot up.

He didn't turn around; his figure flickered a few times and disappeared into the night at the Salt Transport Office, as if he had never been there at all.

……

"Fire! Fire!"

The piercing shouts shattered the tranquility of the Salt Transport Office.

The once-dormant government office erupted in chaos. Countless constables and servants, disheveled and carrying buckets, rushed out, creating a chaotic mess.

The fire started in the backyard. With a gust of wind, the flames quickly leaped onto the roof.

When Qian Chang was awakened, thick smoke had already filled his room. He was dragged out by the servants, his fat body wrapped in a brocade robe, covered in soot and looking utterly disheveled.

"Quick! Put out the fire! Especially in my study! There are important things in there!" he shouted hoarsely.

A group of people rushed towards the study. Fortunately, the fire had not yet spread there.

Qian Chang rushed in, and the first thing he did was rush towards the hidden compartment.

He took out the wooden box and opened it.

The blue ledger lay quietly inside.

He breathed a sigh of relief and patted his chest. "Thank goodness..."

Just then, his gaze fell on the desk.

He was stunned.

A throwing knife was stuck straight up on his desk. The tip gleamed coldly, like a mocking eye.

The character "锦" (jin) stung his eyes.

Qian Chang's face turned deathly pale in an instant. He staggered forward, his hands trembling, and pulled out the throwing knife.

There was no blood on the blade. Only a chilling coldness.

Suddenly, something occurred to him, and he abruptly opened the account book in his hand. He flipped through it page by page, and the more he turned, the uglier his face became.

There seemed to be a very faint mark on the edge of the paper, as if it had been pressed with a thread. What horrified him even more was that he clearly remembered that when he had just flipped through the pages, one page had a corner folded. And now, that corner had been smoothed out.

Someone tampered with it!

No! It wasn't touched!

Someone took it without anyone noticing, copied it, and then returned it without anyone noticing!

And he, the owner of this study, knew nothing about it from beginning to end!

A chill ran from the soles of Qian Chang's feet straight up to the top of his head.

He slumped into the chair, still clutching the throwing knife tightly in his hand.

The noise of the firefighting outside and the shouts of people all seemed so distant. In his world, only the cold knife on the table remained.

Embroidered Uniform Guard...

Why are they targeting me? How much do they know? The ledgers were confiscated; what does that mean?

Official position? Wealth? Life and fortune?

A series of thoughts, like countless sharp knives, churned wildly in his mind.

Qian Chang's gaze began to glaze over. He stared blankly ahead, muttering to himself.

"It's over...it's over...don't come any closer...don't come any closer..."

His body began to tremble violently.

"Lord Qian? Lord Qian, what's wrong?" A yamen runner came over and asked with concern.

Qian Chang jumped up as if he had seen a ghost, grabbed the inkstone on the table, and smashed it over.

"Get out! All of you get out! The Imperial Guards are here to arrest me!"

The inkstone fell to the ground, splattering ink everywhere.

But he started to chuckle. The laughter was harsh, like that of a night owl.

He's crazy.

The next day, it was dawn.

News of the fire at the Salt Transport Office spread throughout Yangzhou.

But the even more shocking news was that Qian Chang, the deputy salt transport commissioner, had been driven mad with fright.

One morning, at the tea tables of officials of all ranks in Yangzhou, the same topic was being discussed.

Some people gloated, while others were terrified.

An invisible fear began to permeate the officialdom of Yangzhou.

Everyone knew that a storm was brewing.