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

It was still dark.

The corner towers of the Forbidden City, shrouded in the misty morning fog, resemble a silent behemoth.

The officials had been waiting outside the Meridian Gate for a long time. No one spoke loudly; they all kept their heads down and rubbed their hands. There was an indescribable oppressive atmosphere in the air, like the calm before a storm, where even the wind had stopped.

The bell rang.

The palace gates slowly opened. A long imperial road led to the center of power. Civil officials to the east and military officials to the west, officials filed in one after another, their footsteps rustling on the bluestone slabs, their movements disordered.

Zhou Yang is not among them. His current focus is on other people.

Inside the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the incense burner emitted the scent of ambergris, a smell that always made the officials' legs go weak.

The emperor sat high on the dragon throne. Today, he didn't look at the proclamation in his hand, but his gaze swept over the assembled officials below. His eyes were indifferent, yet they pierced the hearts of each person like needles.

It was eerily quiet.

Finally, Li Wenbo, the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel, stepped forward. He was old, but his back was ramrod straight.

"Your Majesty, I have a memorial to present."

His voice echoed in the empty hall.

"Speak," the emperor said in a flat voice.

Li Wenbo took a thick book out of his sleeve. Instead of presenting it, he held it high above his head and then slammed it to the ground with all his might.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud. Everyone was startled. The sound wasn't from something falling onto soft mud, but from a heavy, hard object hitting stone bricks.

"Your Majesty! These are the accounts of corruption from the Ministry of Works, the Ministry of Revenue, and the Ministry of Rites over the past year! The amount is staggering!" Li Wenbo's voice was hoarse and trembling.

His opening remarks were like stirring up a hornet's nest.

Chen Zheng, the Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, stepped forward and bowed deeply: "Vice Minister Li's words are all true! Your Censorate has investigated for three months and has irrefutable evidence! We implore Your Majesty to issue an edict to severely punish this traitor!"

"Severely punish the traitors!"

"Please issue a decree, Your Majesty!"

Instantly, seven or eight prominent officials from the "pure stream" all knelt down. Their voices echoed throughout the hall.

The imperial court was in complete chaos.

The Minister of Revenue, Zhang Jing, the Vice Minister of Works, Wang Yu, and several officials from the Ministry of Rites, whose names were mentioned, turned deathly pale instantly. Zhang Jing's lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Sweat seeped from his forehead, streaming down his bloated face.

The emperor sat motionless on his dragon throne. He didn't look at the kneeling officials pleading for his attention, nor at the ashen-faced corrupt officials. His gaze fell on the open account book on the ground.

The rows of numbers above looked like writhing worms crawling into his eyes.

half an hour.

"Zhang Jing".

The emperor spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a blast of ice, instantly freezing the entire hall.

Minister of Revenue Zhang Jing trembled all over, as if his bones had been removed, and knelt down with a thud.

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty is here..."

Do you know your crime?

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty is innocent! Li Wenbo is slandering you! He's framing you! He's forming cliques and attacking dissidents!" Zhang Jing suddenly shouted, as if he had found a lifeline. He stretched out his hand and pointed at Li Wenbo.

"Your Majesty! I have long held differing political views with Li Wenbo; this is revenge!"

Wang Yu also realized what was happening and quickly knelt down, kowtowing: "Your Majesty, you are wise! We are utterly loyal to the court and have no disloyal intentions! This is a treacherous scheme, intended to sow discord between the emperor and his ministers and undermine the foundation of the nation!"

The hall immediately split into two factions. One side was filled with righteous indignation, while the other cried out for justice. The sounds of arguing and defending themselves mingled together, making it no different from a bustling marketplace.

The emperor listened quietly. The expression on his face remained unchanged from beginning to end.

It wasn't until Wang Yu shouted the words "shaking the foundation of the nation" that things changed.

He suddenly smiled. The smile was faint, yet it carried a chilling coldness.

That's enough.

Two words.

All sounds ceased abruptly.

The emperor slowly stood up and walked down the dragon steps. He didn't walk fast, but every step seemed to tread on everyone's heartbeat.

He walked to the ledger, bent down, and picked it up. He flipped through a few pages, his finger pausing on one particular page.

"Zhang Jing," the emperor repeated the name. He looked up at Zhang Jing, who was slumped on the ground. "Minister of Revenue. You've been wearing this hat for three years?"

"Yes...it's been three years, Your Majesty..."

"Three years." The emperor nodded, his tone gentle. "The money you embezzled is enough to buy ten Ministers of Revenue."

Zhang Jing's body began to tremble violently, like a leaf turning in the wind.

The emperor no longer looked at him. He surveyed the assembled officials, his voice suddenly rising like a thunderclap:

"My money is being used to support a bunch of parasites!"

He hurled the ledger in his hand at Wang Yu's face. The papers scattered like a flock of white butterflies.

"Imperial Guards! Demon Suppression Division! Seize them all! Leave no one alive who is mentioned in the account books!" The emperor's eyes turned red, a crimson hue mixed with anger and disappointment.

"All those involved will be imprisoned along with their entire families! The embezzled funds will be confiscated, and their residences will be seized! I want to give this capital a fresh start!"

"I... obey your order!"

A cold voice came from outside the hall. Cao Zhengchun, the Director of the Eastern Depot, appeared silently at the door like a ghost. Behind him were dozens of Imperial Guards in flying fish robes and captains of the Demon Suppression Division in black armor.

They were all carrying gleaming iron chains and waist knives.

"Your Majesty, spare me! Your Majesty, spare me!"

Zhang Jing and Wang Yu completely broke down, crying as they crawled up the dragon steps, kowtowing repeatedly.

The emperor didn't even glance at them, turned around, and swept away. He left only one sentence behind, which echoed coldly in the hall.

"One hour. I want to see the results."

The imperial edict caused an uproar throughout the capital.

Countless Imperial Guards and agents of the Demon Suppression Bureau, like demons crawling out of hell, rushed towards the normally heavily guarded mansions.

The door was violently kicked open. Cries, screams from women, roars from men, wails from children, and the sound of shattering porcelain mingled together.

The once bustling mansion of the Minister was transformed into a living hell. Chests of gold, silver, and valuables were carried out, while antiques and paintings were carelessly tossed on the ground and trampled into mud. Disheveled family members, chained up, were driven out like livestock.

The officials, who usually swaggered around like tyrants, were now in a sorry state. Those who tried to resist had their legs broken by the back of a knife and were dragged away.

The sky over the capital seemed to be stained gray by the bloodshed and despair.

The roof of the mortuary.

Zhou Yang sat there, a withered blade of grass dangling from his mouth. He squinted, gazing into the distance towards the city center.

He couldn't see anything clearly. But he could hear.

The wind blew in from the city, bringing with it a cacophony of sounds—fragmented, chaotic. There were cries, shouts, and the clanging of armor clashing.

He smiled.

The smile was faint, like a ripple on the surface of water.

He reached out his hand, as if plucking some invisible string in the chaotic air in the distance.

This capital city was his zither. And that account book was the first string he plucked.

He had been waiting for this string for a long time.

He finally muddied the waters. The rest was much simpler.

He spat out the blade of grass from his mouth, stood up, and dusted himself off.

He glanced towards Qin Shuang's room in the mortuary. The windows were still dark.

She was still asleep. This storm was one she had stirred up, and one she needed. But she didn't have to witness the bloodshed firsthand. That was good.

Zhou Yang turned around and jumped off the other side of the roof without making a sound.

Muddy waters alone are not enough.

He had to go down there himself and pull up the biggest and fattest fish.

Deep inside the mortuary, in a corner, there were piles of wood soaked in tung oil and gunpowder, and several dismembered corpses, their bodies bound with earthenware jars.

Zhou Yang picked up a tinderbox.

He looked at the faint light in his hand, his eyes growing deep.

"It's time to get ready and add some festive cheer to your new home."

He murmured to himself, the flame of the tinderbox flickering gently in the dim light.