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

After the maid left, Liu Sandao didn't immediately return to the stove. Instead, he walked up to Zhou Ming, his tone respectful yet not distant:

"Manager Zhou, is there anything you'd like to eat for breakfast? I'll make something especially for you."

Zhou Ming was taken aback: "Wasn't there no breakfast this morning?"

Liu Sandao smiled slightly, bent down a little closer, and lowered his voice slightly:

"Manager Zhou, you've just taken over and don't understand yet. No matter where you go, the cooks won't go hungry."

"We bring back so much food every day, and if we take just a tiny bit from each portion, it's enough to feed all twenty or so of us."

Our kitchen staff eat three meals a day normally. As long as they don't overeat, don't take food out, and don't waste food, it's acceptable anywhere.

I see. No wonder Manager Zhang can get so fat.

The kitchen is where food is prepared. Even if we don't skimp on the master's food, just taking a tiny bit from each ingredient would be enough to feed these people for a day.

Furthermore, the young lady's management of servants can be strict or lenient; as long as the work is done well, she usually turns a blind eye to these things.

"Just give me whatever you like, I'm not picky, as long as it fills my stomach. Whatever you usually eat for breakfast, just give me that."

Liu Sandao responded and turned to go to the stove.

Before long, he brought over a rough porcelain bowl, which was filled with more than half a bowl of hot noodle soup. Some chopped cabbage leaves and meat pieces floated in the soup, and there was a multigrain pancake on the side.

The food wasn't particularly good, but it was much better than the lunch the Marquis's mansion gave to the steward.

Zhou Ming took the bowl, slurped up a mouthful of soup, and hissed as it was scalded.

The pancakes were made of fine flour, and they were soft, chewy, and sweet. Zhou Ming chewed them slowly.

This was the best meal he had eaten since he transmigrated.

There's actually no other oil or grease in the kitchen.

The purchasing was managed by the head maid Chunlan. There were records for the entry and exit of ingredients, and every transaction matched the accounts. There was no way to embezzle money from it.

The only advantage was that I ate better than others, had hot meals every day, and didn't go hungry. That was all.

Manager Zhang gained weight and became over 200 pounds by eating this.

Zhou Ming wouldn't be foolish enough to be stingy with food, much less would he deprive himself of a persona of integrity and uprightness.

What he wanted was for the twenty people in the kitchen to do their jobs well, without making any mistakes or causing him any trouble.

As for these minor issues regarding food, he turned a blind eye to them.

After breakfast, Zhou Ming sat on a stool in the corner of the kitchen, lingering there, unwilling to leave.

He would take a sip of tea from his teacup, then pick up yesterday's ingredient list and flip through it again and again.

Even though he had already read each page three times, he was still pretending to be studying it with a furrowed brow.

Liu Sandao had already prepared the lunch menu and handed it to him for review.

He took it and looked at it for a long time before slowly nodding, as slowly as an old ox pulling a cart.

Several handymen nearby had already wiped the stove twice and swept the floor clean after sprinkling water on it.

Zhou Ming was still sitting on that stool, his buttocks looking like they were glued on.

Heaven have mercy, he really didn't want to go to the martial arts arena.

He had just experienced that feeling of having every last drop of strength squeezed from his body, with every inch of his flesh screaming – yesterday.

Although the soreness in his body had long since been completely eliminated by those two magical powers.

Once he's actually on the training ground, he can squat for a full quarter of an hour without even breaking a sweat.

But he can't. If he goes there, he has to pretend that he's sore all over and that he's exhausted. Who would go out of their way to torture themselves if they could just stay comfortably in the kitchen?

Unfortunately, he couldn't dodge it.

Not long after the young lady finished breakfast, the kitchen door was pushed open from the outside.

Two guards with long swords at their waists stood side by side at the doorway. The morning light shone in from behind them, casting long shadows on the kitchen floor.

The cooks looked up, and the servants stopped what they were doing.

Everyone watched as the two guards walked through the kitchen, went straight to Zhou Ming, and then clasped their hands in a salute.

"Manager Zhou, please forgive me."

As soon as he finished speaking, the two men grabbed Zhou Ming's arms from either side and lifted him off the stool.

Their movements were crisp and clean, and their teamwork was so seamless that it seemed they had rehearsed countless times.

Zhou Ming's legs kicked twice in the air involuntarily, like a skinny cat being grabbed by the scruff of its neck.

The kitchen was quiet for a moment, then someone couldn't help but burst out laughing, followed by a chorus of muffled laughter throughout the kitchen.

Liu Sandao turned around to wipe the stove, not wanting anyone to see his expression, but his shoulders were clearly trembling.

Zhou Ming was carried by two guards through the alley of the outer courtyard, and he looked just like the dead dog he had yesterday.

The servants and guards along the way were too lazy to even pretend this time, and they all smiled when they saw him.

Some of the bolder ones even waved to him: "Good morning, Manager Zhou!"

Zhou Ming kicked twice in mid-air, realizing he couldn't break free, so he stopped struggling and instead glared at the other person: "What do you mean 'early'? Can't you see I'm busy right now?"

But mindset is a truly wondrous thing.

When he was carried back yesterday, he was so ashamed that he wanted to bury his face in the cracks between the bricks, feeling like the whole world was laughing at him.

He wasn't bothered by being helped around today.

There's a threshold to embarrassing things; once you get past that hurdle, it's probably just a matter of getting used to it.

He even had the leisure to comment on the strides of the two guards.

The one on the left takes bigger steps, while the one on the right takes smaller steps. Their paces are out of sync, which makes his left arm higher than his right arm, and it's quite uncomfortable.

Two guards carried him to the training ground, put him on the side of the field, clasped their hands in a salute to Dongmei, and then turned and left.

It's a beautiful day. The morning light shines down from above the bamboo forest, filtering through the bamboo leaves and turning into shimmering gold fragments that spread across the compacted earth.

The weapon racks around the training ground were polished to a gleaming shine, and the swords, spears, and halberds gleamed with a cold, star-like light under the sun.

Dongmei was sitting on a small stool in the center of the field, holding a book in her hands, reading it with great interest.

She didn't practice her sword today; the short sword hung quietly in its scabbard at her waist, a red tassel dangling from the hilt, swaying gently in the morning breeze.

When Zhou Ming was carried in, it caused quite a commotion, but Dongmei didn't even lift an eyelid.

She turned a page of the book and, without looking up, uttered four words: "First, practice the horse stance."

Zhou Ming obediently walked to the muddy ground that had been soaked with his sweat from yesterday.

He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, and waist lowered, adopting a horse stance, though of course, he was just pretending.

He tightly controlled the magical power in his dantian, causing his legs to tremble as if he had just been electrocuted.

His knees kept rising, his thigh muscles were trembling violently at a visible frequency, and beads of sweat quickly appeared on his forehead.

This job was much more tiring than actually squatting in a horse stance, but he performed it with great effort.

While shaking his leg, he glanced at the storybook in Dongmei's hand.

The cover of the storybook was light blue, and the corners were already a bit frayed from being turned over. On the cover were several neat and upright characters in regular script: "The False Crown Order".

Zhou Ming found the name very difficult to pronounce, but that didn't stop him from having his own ideas.