If you die, I will be able to inherit your cultivation.

The black-armored soldiers brought by Zhou Ming surged into the gates of Zheng's mansion like a tidal wave.

Arresting people, sealing off houses, and confiscating property—they executed the entire process cleanly and efficiently.

This old Zheng family residence, which had been in business in Youzhou for countless generations, became history from this moment on.

Zhou Ming dismounted and stood on the steps in front of the Zheng residence, the wind causing his old dark blue robe to flutter slightly.

He remained calm, as if the ongoing ransacking of the mansion behind him had nothing to do with him.

A group of officials from the Ministry of Justice stood a few steps behind him, their faces ashen.

For the first time in their lives, they witnessed the confiscation of property and the extermination of an entire clan, and the Zheng family was the target of this confiscation.

A long-established and prominent family in Youzhou.

Wu Shijun stood at the front of the crowd, cold sweat streaming down his temples, his official robe soaked through the back.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as his gaze swept over the Zheng family members being escorted out of the mansion, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him.

He knew that he had completely severed ties with the aristocratic families in this lifetime.

From this day forward, he is Zhou Ming's man, a man of the Ministry of Justice, and a man who promotes the new law.

The doors of powerful families have been completely closed to him; it's a fight to the death.

The officer who was confiscating the property brought over a grand chair and respectfully placed it behind Zhou Ming.

Zhou Ming lifted his robe and sat down, then turned around and glanced at the Ministry of Justice official behind him.

His gaze was expressionless, sweeping slowly from Wu Shijun's face to the faces of the other doctors and the chief clerk, making sure he saw each person's face clearly.

The officials from the Ministry of Justice were taken aback at first, and then immediately began to regret their actions.

It's not that I regret following Zhou Ming, it's that I regret not even having this most basic insight.

Lord Zhou turned around to look at them, indicating that the captain's ability to move the chair was due to his own observation.

When Lord Zhou glanced at them, he was telling them not to forget next time.

The first person to be brought out was Zheng Yaoming.

He was dragged out of the vermilion gate by two soldiers in black armor, who bound his hands behind his back.

His gray hair was mostly disheveled, and his court robes were torn in several places during the struggle, covered with dust and bloodstains from who-knows-where.

He saw Zhou Ming standing on the steps with his hands behind his back, and suddenly broke free from the hands of the soldiers escorting him, as if bursting out of some last bit of strength.

He fell to his knees at Zhou Ming's feet with a thud, his forehead pounding against the bluestone slab, wailing in a tearful voice:

"Lord Zhou! I was wrong! I implemented the new laws! Please have mercy on me and spare my entire family!"

He slammed his head harder with each blow, and soon a blurry bloodstain appeared on his forehead, mixing with the dust on the ground and trickling down his gray eyebrows.

His voice was hoarse and shrill, and the arrogance and rage in his eyes had long been washed away by fear, leaving only the most primal instinct for survival.

"Lord Zhou, I was wrong! From now on, I will follow your lead without question. If you say east, I will never go west. Please spare my life!"

Zhou Ming sat in the armchair, looking down at the sixty-year-old man at his feet who was kowtowing repeatedly, a very faint smile appearing on his lips.

He spoke slowly and deliberately, "Heh...too late."

These two words were spoken very lightly and casually, but to Zheng Yaoming they were more despairing than the death sentence from the King of Hell.

His kowtow froze in mid-air. He raised his blood-stained old face and stared blankly at Zhou Ming, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but two soldiers lifted him up from the left and right and dragged him toward the prison cart.

His heels dragged two long, wet trails on the bluestone pavement, and he looked like a broken sack with its spine removed, no longer having the strength to struggle.

As soon as he was put on the prison van, he roared, "Zhou Ming, you can't do this! I'm innocent! I've been framed!"

"I want to see the Empress! I want to see His Majesty! Let me out! Let me out now! I want to see His Majesty!"

However, no matter how much he roared, no one paid any attention to him.

Zheng Zhigan was also brought out. This former Right Vice Minister and the second son of the Zheng family looked even worse than his father.

His hair was a mess, and his face was covered in tears and snot.

A large patch of blood, whose name was unknown, was splattered on the brand-new clothes.

When he was brought before Zhou Ming, his legs went weak and he collapsed to his knees, trembling like a leaf, his teeth chattering.

He saw Zhou Ming sitting right in front of him, his face still exactly the same as when he was thrown out of the Minister's mansion.

But at this moment, this face was more terrifying to him than the Ox-Head and Horse-Face demons in the Yama's Palace.

He crawled forward two steps on his knees, reaching out to grab Zhou Ming's clothes.

But two black-armored soldiers blocked him half a foot away with their crossed spears, and then he began to wail loudly:

"My lord! I was wrong! I was wrong! I was blind! I was short-sighted!"

"Please, sir, have mercy and spare my life! From now on, I will follow your every command and bite whoever you tell me to bite!"

His voice was shrill and trembling, his cries were heart-wrenching, and his face was contorted beyond recognition.

"My lord! My lord, spare my life! I am your subordinate! My lord..."

His voice was so shrill, like shards of glass scraped from his throat, echoing down the long street.

Zhou Ming sat in the armchair, not even glancing at him.

His gaze passed over Zheng Zhigan's head and landed on the boxes and boxes of confiscated property being carried out by soldiers in black armor in the distance.

Zheng Zhigan's wailing was not as pleasant to his ears as the clinking of silver ingots in the distance.

Seeing that Zhou Ming remained unmoved, Zheng Zhigan turned around in despair and crawled on his knees toward Wu Shijun, who was standing to the side.

He grabbed Wu Shijun's leg, looked up at his tear-streaked face, and his voice was so hoarse that it was almost impossible to hear his complete words:

"Lord Wu! Lord Wu! For our past camaraderie, please, for my sake, plead with Lord Zhou! Lord Wu! I beg you! Please say a word!"

He used his last bit of strength, like a drowning man grasping at a last straw.

Wu Shijun was so startled by his hug that he felt a jolt all over his body, as if he had been branded with a hot iron.

He instinctively tried to back away, but Zheng Zhigan held his legs tightly, and he couldn't move after taking half a step back.

He turned his head in a panic and stole a glance at Zhou Ming.

Zhou Ming remained seated in the armchair, his face expressionless. He neither gestured for him to shut up nor for him to speak.

Wu Shijun's heart sank, and he glared fiercely at Zheng Zhigan.

There was no sympathy, no pity, not even anger in his eyes, only a kind of resentment and malice that came from being driven to the brink and then blaming him for dragging him down.

He lowered his voice and forced out a few words through gritted teeth: "You... let go!"

The voice was kept extremely low, so low that only Zheng Zhigan could hear it.

Then she forcefully pulled her leg out of his arms, took two steps to the side, turned her face away, and refused to look at Zheng Zhigan again.