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

When I opened my eyes again, it was almost dawn.

Zhou Ming sat up in bed and stretched his shoulders and back.

There wasn't a single sore spot on my body, and the two streams of energy in my dantian were quietly coiled, as docile as two dozing cats.

If he wanted to, he could jump out of bed right now, do a couple of somersaults, and then perform a set of monkey boxing moves without even breaking a sweat.

But he can't.

Zhou Ming sat on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath, and forced all the magical power in his dantian into its deepest part.

Confirm that there is not a single trace of energy leaking from the body.

Then stretch your legs forward and try to stand up.

His movements involved first moving his legs straight to the edge of the bed, touching the ground with his toes, and then supporting himself on the bed frame with both hands.

He gritted his teeth and pushed his upper body upwards, pausing deliberately halfway up to pretend that his muscles were sore he couldn't hold on any longer.

Finally, he stood up, but he deliberately straightened his legs. His knees felt like they were filled with cement; he couldn't bend them or lift them.

He had experienced this action in his previous life.

Back when I was in high school, the school held a sports meet, and Zhou Ming was coaxed and tricked by the class monitor into signing up for the 3,000-meter race.

I was really excited while running, and I gritted my teeth and finished the whole course.

The next day, both legs were ruined; the muscles in the thighs and calves looked as if they had been torn off the bones and then reattached.

Forget about bending my knees, my calves are trembling just standing up, and I have to hold onto the railing and move up one step at a time to climb the stairs.

This is the state he's faking right now.

It's not an exaggeration; it's a faithful recreation of the gait caused by muscle soreness after exercise.

This gait is naturally convincing because it is a genuine human reaction, and it is difficult to spot any flaws even with careful observation.

Zhou Ming pushed open the door, straightened his legs, and moved step by step along the alley toward the kitchen.

The first person I encountered on the road was a janitor sweeping the yard, who was bending over and sweeping the ground with a broom.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up and opened his mouth to greet Zhou Ming, but when he saw Zhou Ming's appearance, he couldn't bring himself to say "Manager Zhou." His lips twitched sharply towards his back teeth, and he quickly lowered his head.

Next came several night patrol guards, who, upon seeing him shuffling forward with straight legs, all stopped in their tracks.

Then they all turned their heads to the side as if nothing had happened, but Zhou Ming noticed that the muscles on their cheeks were twitching.

Afterwards, they encountered several more groups of people, all of whom looked the same. When they saw Zhou Ming's walking posture, they all had a look of wanting to laugh but not daring to.

Zhou Ming didn't blame them. He had experienced embarrassment too many times in his previous life, and his skin was thick enough to be used as wallpaper.

He just glared at them fiercely a few times, without saying a word, just staring.

The servants and guards who were glared at by him immediately backed down, either lowering their heads or turning their gazes elsewhere, not daring to openly mock him.

However, Zhou Ming also knew that once he walked past, these guys would definitely be laughing behind his back.

Laugh, if you laugh, it means you believe, and that's good.

Zhou Ming continued to move forward, maintaining this half-dead gait.

This posture isn't tiring, but it's unbearable.

He felt perfectly normal walking, and that the muscles in his legs were strong enough to kick over a stone roller.

But he had to force himself to look like he was gritting his teeth for ages even when he bent his knees.

As I approached the kitchen door, before even stepping inside, that familiar, mixed aroma wafted out.

Zhou Ming pushed open the wooden door, which was shiny from the cooking fumes, and slowly moved inside.

Everyone in the kitchen had already arrived.

The kitchen was steaming with heat, the fire in the stove was burning brightly, the sound of cleavers chopping on the cutting board, the clanging of spatulas turning over, and the footsteps of servants carrying ingredients.

Everything was just as he had seen it yesterday, perfectly orderly.

Ten cooks each guarded their own stove, while ten third-class servants shuttled back and forth among them.

Liu Sandao was standing in front of the innermost stove, where a pot of something was simmering, and steam was popping and bobbing against the lid.

Upon seeing Zhou Ming enter, the sounds in the kitchen subsided in unison.

Several servants who were squatting and picking vegetables all looked up.

Seeing him moving forward with his legs straight, the expression on his face froze for a moment.

Then they all lowered their heads in perfect unison, pretending they hadn't seen anything.

The handyman who delivered Zhou Ming's meals yesterday was also among them, and his lips tightened again.

Liu Sandao put down the spatula, wiped his hands, picked up a booklet from the stove, and came over.

When he saw Zhou Ming's appearance, his eyelids twitched, but he quickly regained his usual composure.

He didn't ask pointless questions like, "Manager Zhou, what happened to your leg?" He simply handed the booklet to Zhou Ming and said calmly:

"Manager Zhou, you're a little late today. I heard about what happened yesterday, and I figured you probably wouldn't be able to get up this morning, so I took the liberty of going to the storeroom early and bringing back today's ingredients. Please take a look."

Zhou Ming flipped through the booklet and glanced at it. Rice, noodles, oil, salt, vegetables, meat, and all sorts of ingredients were listed clearly.

Liu Sandao kept meticulous accounts, even clearer than an Excel spreadsheet from his previous life.

Zhou Ming nodded inwardly. With an old man like Liu Sandao holding the fort in the kitchen, he could indeed save himself a lot of trouble.

He closed the booklet and nodded solemnly to Liu Sandao.

"Thank you for your trouble, Uncle Liu."

Liu Sandao bowed slightly, turned around and went back to the stove to continue making breakfast for the young lady.

He always cooked for Su Mingyue in his own private kitchen, and no one else was allowed to touch it.

This morning, a pot of lily porridge was simmering on the stove, and he was slowly stirring it with a long-handled wooden spoon. On another stove, a small earthenware pot was keeping a few dishes of side dishes warm.

Several servants were helping him out, washing vegetables, chopping scallions, and handing him plates in an orderly manner.

The others weren't idle either; they each did their own job.

Zhou Ming gritted his teeth, pretending that "every movement was causing him pain all over his body," and slowly sat down on a stool, holding onto the edge of the table. He just watched them work like that.

Not long after, Liu Sandao took the lily porridge off the stove, poured it into a celadon bowl, and neatly arranged several small dishes in the food box.

He took out a small bowl and a pair of silver chopsticks from the bamboo basket beside him and put them together.

Then he took a half step back and nodded to a third-class servant waiting beside him.

The servant stepped forward, picked up another small bowl of porridge that had been prepared on the table, and drank it down in a few gulps.

This is a food tasting. Anything that the young lady puts in her mouth must be tasted by a designated person first to confirm that it is not poisonous before it can be sent out.

After the servants who had tasted the food finished eating, they stepped aside and waited for a while. When nothing seemed amiss, Liu Sandao covered the celadon bowl and handed the food box to the maid waiting at the door.

The maid took it and turned to walk quickly towards the inner courtyard.