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

Zhou Ming didn't know how long he had been squatting there.

It could be a quarter of an hour, or it could be an hour.

Time had lost its meaning for him; the only things that mattered were his two legs.

They go from aching to numb, and from numb to losing consciousness.

The pain would subside and then start hurting again, in a never-ending cycle, like being thrown into a meat grinder that was constantly grinding and crushing.

Sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging them so much he couldn't open them, but he didn't bother to wipe it away.

Because he was using his hands to press down hard on his knees, afraid that if he let go, he would collapse.

My clothes were completely soaked, clinging to my body, feeling cold and sticky, as if I had just been pulled out of the water.

"stop."

Dongmei finally spoke.

That single word sounded to Zhou Ming like heavenly music.

He suddenly released the breath he had been holding, but he couldn't stand up.

Zhou Ming's legs were stiff, his knees felt like they had been filled with molten iron, he couldn't bend them or straighten them, and he remained in a half-squatting position.

Then his body swayed and he fell straight to the ground, like a door that had been pushed over, crashing onto the solid ground with a thud, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Dongmei stood up from her small stool, walked over to him, and looked down at him.

Her short sword was already sheathed, her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and her head was tilted slightly to one side, her expression as if she were admiring a work of art that she was very satisfied with.

"That's not enough? Didn't you manage to stand holding onto the plank for so long on West Mountain yesterday? I didn't see your legs shaking at all."

Zhou Ming lay on the ground, his chest heaving violently. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

His lungs felt like two broken bellows, desperately trying to open and then shrink back. His throat was filled with a rusty, sweet taste, making even breathing difficult. He had no energy left to argue with Dongmei.

He could only stare at the sky, feeling his legs go from stiff to slowly regaining sensation.

The tingling, needle-like sensation was even more unbearable than the previous soreness, like countless ants crawling in the cracks of my bones.

Dongmei wasn't in a hurry; she just stood beside him and waited. By the time he caught his breath and struggled to sit up, Dongmei had already walked to the center of the training ground and beckoned to him with her finger.

"Get up when you've rested enough, and show me your boxing skills."

Zhou Ming resignedly got up. He knew this set of boxing techniques; it was a memory from his predecessor, called "Monkey Boxing."

It was a rudimentary boxing style taught by the servants of the Marquis's mansion. The name and movements were straightforward. It did not rely on strength but rather on agility.

In his previous life, Zhou Ming knew nothing about martial arts, but fortunately, the muscle memory of this body was still there. He closed his eyes and recalled for a moment before taking the starting stance.

"Monkey Fist, First Form: The Nimble Monkey Seeks a Branch."

Dongmei called out the names of the moves behind him, her voice lazy, as if she were reading a menu she was tired of seeing.

Following his memory, Zhou Ming raised his arm and reached out, leaning forward as if to climb a branch.

He thought he had done a fairly good job, but Dongmei just grunted in response, a "hmm" that contained a hesitant evaluation.

Zhou Ming then performed the second and third moves.

Dongmei would occasionally step forward to correct his movements.

The elbow was raised above the shoulder, the wrist wasn't flexible enough when striking, and the center of gravity shifted when turning.

Each correction was like a sword sheath stabbing the wrong spot, neither too light nor too heavy, so precise it made you grit your teeth.

"Monkey Kung Fu emphasizes agility. Do you know what agility means?"

Dongmei moved around to his side.

"It's not about how fast you jump around to be considered clever."

"The monkey's agility lies in leaving room for maneuver in every move; if it can reach something, that's enough; if it can't, it can always pull back."

"You're not a monkey, you're a wasp whose nest has been disturbed."

Zhou Ming gritted his teeth and typed it again.

This time he slowed down his movements, trying to understand what Dongmei meant by "leaving some room for maneuver".

However, as he hopped from the east end of the training ground to the west end and back again, he inadvertently caught a glimpse of several guards packing up their weapons at the edge of the field.

The guards were secretly peeking in their direction, and one of them couldn't help but smirk as if he had seen something extremely interesting.

Zhou Ming paused for a moment, then looked down at himself.

Two legs as thin as sticks, long and thin arms, a pointed and monkey-like face, coupled with this bouncy and jumping boxing style.

His movements suddenly paused for a beat.

Good heavens, this isn't monkey boxing at all. Others who use this style of boxing just look like monkeys.

When he fights, he's like a real monkey.

A real monkey, so thin it was skin and bones, leaping and bounding around the training ground.

No wonder those guards were laughing.

"What are you staring at? Continue!"

Dongmei's sword sheath stabbed at him again, this time hitting his lower back with more force than before.

Zhou Ming snapped out of his daze and quickly pulled himself back to his boxing routine.

After performing the monkey fist routine twice, Dongmei called for a stop.

Zhou Ming thought he could finally rest, but before he could even feel happy, Dongmei gestured with her lips toward the open space where he had been squatting in a horse stance.

"Go squat again."

So he squatted back down.

It was the same spot, the same posture, and the same two legs that had only recently recovered.

Dongmei was still sitting on that small stool, but this time she didn't wipe her sword.

Instead, he tapped his palm with the scabbard, at a moderate pace, as if he were keeping time for Zhou Ming's horse stance.

With each tap, Zhou Ming's heart clenched, and his knees sank. He suspected that Dongmei was doing it on purpose.

After squatting, it's time for monkey fist.

After the monkey fist routine, it was time for the horse stance.

After two rounds of back and forth, Dongmei finally relented:

"Alright, that's enough for today."

At this point, Zhou Ming didn't even have the strength to stand up.

His legs were like two ropes soaked in water, and he couldn't even muster the strength to clench his fist. Raising his arm felt like lifting a mountain.

He slumped to the ground, panting heavily, his sweat soaking a small patch of mud beneath him.

Dongmei glanced at him, shook her head, and turned to call out towards the outside of the training ground: "Two people, come here."

Before long, two guards came in, grabbed Zhou Ming's arms on either side, and lifted him up from the ground.

Zhou Ming's legs slumped limply on the ground, his toes leaving two shallow marks, making him look like a fish that had been pulled from the water.

He was carried out by two guards, hanging between them with his neck crooked.

He no longer had the strength to straighten his head.

As he passed by Dongmei, he struggled to lift his eyelids and glance at her.

Dongmei stood there, arms crossed, a mocking smile playing on her lips, her eyes seeming to say:

This is only the first day; there's still a long way to go.

Zhou Ming quickly lowered his head.

He had never felt so ashamed before.

He was trained into this state by a maid who was only two years older than him, and then he had to be carried out of the training ground.

He dared not even think about how many people would see him like this along the way.

He silently attributed all of this to that broken wooden plank on West Mountain, and a thought became even more firmly established in his heart:

I'll never stand at the entrance of a hole with that broken plank again, it's too damn embarrassing.