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

When Zhou Ming was carried back to his room, he was completely limp and lifeless.

The two guards put him on the bed, suppressed a laugh, and turned to leave.

Lying on the bed, Zhou Ming didn't even have the strength to turn over. He just lay there on his back, staring at the water stains on the roof beam that had been seeped in by time, panting heavily.

His legs were still trembling involuntarily, he couldn't lift his arms, and he couldn't even clench his fists properly, as if someone had pulled out half of the tendons from his body while he was asleep.

Lunch was delivered by a kitchen helper.

When the servant knocked on the door with a food box, Zhou Ming was about to sit up.

At least maintain some semblance of dignity that a manager should have in front of their new subordinates.

After struggling for a couple of moments, her waist barely lifted half an inch off the bed before she was slammed back down heavily.

He could only lie there and have someone place the food box on the small table beside his bed, saying in a hoarse voice, "Just leave it there."

As the servant left, Zhou Ming clearly saw that his lips were tightly pursed, his eyelids were lowered, and he was desperately trying to suppress a laugh.

It goes without saying that he was carried by two guards from the martial arts arena through most of the outer courtyard, and countless people saw him looking like a dead dog.

The kitchen staff must already know.

On his very first day in office, the new official was so thoroughly disciplined by his head maid that he had to be carried home. He had truly lost face.

But he was too weak to move, so he just lay there, unable to even turn over to get the food from the food box.

And so, with his stomach growling, he lay there, utterly dejected.

I lay there in a daze until the afternoon, when drowsiness crept in, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and I don't know when I fell asleep.

In a daze, a warm flow gushed out from Zhou Ming's lower abdomen.

It didn't seep out slowly; it just exploded all at once.

It was as if someone had ignited a spark in his dantian, and that spark instantly turned into a pool of scalding lava.

The heat flowed rapidly along his meridians, reaching every part of his body.

It flows down to the waist and hips, over the thighs, over the knees, and all the way to the toes.

It surges upwards, past the chest, past the shoulders, past the elbows, and down to the tips of every finger.

The aches and pains throughout my body were washed away in an instant, like snow under the scorching sun that evaporated before it could even melt.

Instead, it brought an extreme sense of comfort.

It's not the lazy warmth of soaking in a hot spring, but something more thorough and transparent.

Every muscle, every bone, and every tendon in my body felt as if it had been soaked in a pot of perfectly heated medicinal soup, cleansing me from the inside out.

The feeling was so intense that Zhou Ming even thought he was dreaming in his dazed state.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

Not a dream.

The aches and pains in my body have indeed disappeared without a trace.

He tried moving his fingers.

His fingers clenched into a fist, and his knuckles cracked twice, much more nimbly than usual.

Zhou Ming tried to raise his arm, and it lifted steadily. The two muscles behind his shoulder blades were no longer sore.

He straightened up and sat up, looking down at his hands and legs, which were still as thin and skinny as ever.

The veins on her two thin arms were faintly visible, and her wrists were so thin that they looked like they could be snapped in two, but the feeling inside was completely different.

Zhou Ming composed himself and focused his attention on the space between his eyebrows.

That web of cause and effect still hangs there quietly, and the thick, iron-wire-like chain of cause and effect around it remains.

The pillar was still there, and several new threads were slowly solidifying.

But one of them, whose thickness and location Zhou Ming clearly remembered, was broken.

That causal chain was once thinner than Fang Yuan, but thicker than the pillar, and was one of the top-ranking chains in this network.

Now it looks like a snapped string, drooping at both ends, its luster rapidly fading.

Zhou Ming stared at the rapidly dimming light, his breath catching in his throat.

He guessed right.

The message conveyed to him by that scripture was very clear: when a cultivator dies, all their cultivation will belong to the person who transmits the scripture.

He didn't know who the dead person was.

Zhu Zi was arrested, and he saw it too.

Zhou Ming didn't know if Fang Yuan had been arrested, nor did he have time to match the names of the remaining people with the causal chain.

But that's not important. What's important is that one of those people is already dead, and all the magical power that person cultivated has been transferred to him.

Zhou Ming got off the bed and stood in the middle of the room.

The body was still the same, as thin as a stick, skin and bones, with the outline of the shoulder blades clearly visible.

He examined himself for a moment, then turned to feel the power within his body.

He had never seen a martial artist at the Skin Refining Realm make a move, so he didn't know how strong they were.

I've never seen a cultivator make a move, so I don't know how their magical power works.

But there is indeed something inside his body now.

There wasn't much of it; it was like a small pool of hot water trapped in a crack in the rocks, yet it was undeniably real.

He could sense that his current strength was no less than that of a martial artist in the Skin Refining Realm.

Zhou Ming tried to guide that energy with his mind.

The moment he had that thought, the energy surged out along his meridians without any delay or obstruction.

Zhou Ming told it to walk along the arm, and it walked to the palm.

Let it sink to the bottom of your feet, and it will land steadily on the Yongquan acupoint.

He told it to circle the Du meridian, and it obediently walked around the spine.

The whole process was incredibly smooth; he didn't need to learn any methods of luck.

The cultivation he inherited from the scriptures was like something that was naturally part of him; he used it with consummate skill and ease.

Zhou Ming stood in the room for a while, then thought of something else.

He inherited this power, but he couldn't explain its origin.

How would he explain it if someone noticed that he, a lowly servant who couldn't even kill a chicken, suddenly possessed the strength of a martial artist at the Skin Refining Realm?

Zhu Zi was discovered because he lost control of his strength and punched someone through the stomach.

With past examples already laid bare, he had no intention of repeating their mistakes.

Zhou Ming was thinking about how to hide his power.

He focused his mind on his dantian, gathering all the energy, and then silently thought about how to hide it.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, the energy in his dantian vanished instantly, like a stone sinking into a deep pool, leaving not even a ripple.

Zhou Ming was stunned for a moment, raised his hand and clenched his fist, then moved his shoulders and found that his strength had not changed.

It wasn't that the power disappeared, but rather that the aura was concealed by some more sophisticated method.

From his outward appearance, he was no different from the skinny servant who couldn't even kill a chicken.

Zhou Ming made another thought and released the energy from his dantian.

That warm power instantly surged back to my limbs and bones, filling my entire body.

Collect again.

And then it disappeared completely.

Only at this moment did Zhou Ming realize that the power inherited from this scripture could be hidden at will.

It's as simple as having a thought; you can control it at will.

This is infinitely superior to the way Zhu Zi could not control his strength and punched someone right through with one punch.

The scriptures granted the cultivator power, but they also gave Zhou Ming unique control over it.

Those who cultivated for him only focused on increasing his cultivation level, as long as he died.

He decides how, when, and how much of this power to use.

He sat by the bed for a moment, going over the discovery from beginning to end.

The power of the cultivator after death flowed into him, which shows that the rules promised to him in the scripture at the beginning were true.

Moreover, regardless of distance, no matter where one dies, their cultivation will return to him.

So, if these people succeed in their cultivation, their cultivation will all belong to him when they die.

Thinking of this, he looked up and glanced out the window.

Outside the paper window, the sky was dimly lit, and the footsteps of guards and servants could be heard in the distance.

It was no different from any other dull afternoon.

Zhou Ming calmed the Qi in his dantian, stood up from the bed, and stretched his shoulders, waist, and legs. He felt no soreness from the exercise.

He poured himself a bowl of cold tea, tilted his head back and gulped down a few mouthfuls, then sat on the edge of the bed and began to eat.

Zhou Ming ate while pondering.

The Marquis's mansion should start investigating the matter of the scriptures. Given the nature of these aristocratic families, they will definitely do everything in their power to seize this heaven-defying opportunity and turn it into their own strength.

In that case, the Marquis's mansion should soon become the main disseminator of knowledge. However, it is unknown when other prominent families will discover this.

Take it slow, and be careful in everything you do.

First, he needs to do a solid job as the kitchen manager, get through Dongmei's training, and reduce everyone's doubts about him to zero.

Let's wait until this storm passes before considering spreading our teachings.