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

Zhou Ming followed Dongmei toward the inner courtyard. Along the way, the servants, guards, and maids they encountered first bowed respectfully upon seeing them, but after he passed, they huddled together, covering their mouths and giggling.

One of the cleaning maids laughed so hard she bent over, and the broom in her hand almost slipped off her feet.

The two guards whispered among themselves after he passed by.

One of them vividly recounted how he personally witnessed Steward Zhou being pulled out of the latrine while his legs were still kicking wildly in the air.

Zhou Ming is currently a Foundation Establishment cultivator, and his divine sense can only cover a range of ten meters around him.

But he had sharp ears and heard every word of the whispers.

He walked forward expressionlessly, cursing the two servants repeatedly in his mind.

Entering the inner courtyard flower hall, it was the same spot as yesterday.

Su Mingyue sat at the rosewood table, sipping a cup of tea, while Chunlan and the others stood by her side.

After Zhou Ming stepped forward to greet her, Su Mingyue raised her hand to signal him to begin, and he continued the story from yesterday.

Zhou Mingqing cleared his throat and began to recount a scene between Guo Jing and Huang Rong at the Iron Spear Temple.

Wanyan Honglie kidnapped Bao Xiruo to force Yang Kang to submit. Yang Kang struck Huang Rong's soft armor with a palm, and was poisoned by snake venom. He rolled around on the ground, his face contorted beyond recognition.

After finishing this section, he went on to talk about Genghis Khan shooting an eagle with his bow and Guo Jing traveling thousands of miles to Xiangyang.

Finally, the story goes back to the second martial arts tournament at Mount Hua, where Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng embraced each other in the snow and both died. In the end, these two masters, one righteous and one evil, met a tragic end by dying together.

Of the Seven Heroes of Jiangnan, only Ke Zhen'e remained, while Guo Jing and Huang Rong rode off side by side into the distance, with the vast expanse of yellow sand stretching across the Jianghu behind them.

After the story was told, the flower hall remained quiet for a long time.

Su Mingyue remained silent for a long time before looking up at Zhou Ming and asking a seemingly casual question: "How many books in the library have you read?"

Zhou Ming's heart stirred slightly.

This question was clearly not asked casually.

When he was telling the story of "The Legend of the Condor Heroes", he wanted to fit the story into the context of this world.

He intentionally or unintentionally included many place names and allusions that he had read in the library.

Su Mingyue obviously understood as well.

She didn't ask, "Did you read it from the library?", but rather, "How much did you read?"

This indicates that she has already assumed that the source of these stories is the Marquis's library; she just wants to know how deep Zhou Ming's foundation is.

"Reporting to Miss, I haven't read much; I've barely passed the halfway mark."

Zhou Ming answered with his head down, his face neither blushing nor skipping a beat.

In fact, he had only been to the library for a few days, so how could he have read even half of it?

He's just creating a persona for himself as someone who "loves reading".

The stories he tells must have some basis in reality, even if he made them up.

He needed to have some knowledge, and the library was his best cover.

Fortunately, the original owner had indeed read quite a few books, as the young lady knew. Although not practical knowledge like military strategy, he had some knowledge of poetry, songs, and the works of various philosophers.

"I didn't expect you to be such a book lover."

Su Mingyue's tone was neither complimentary nor critical, but she leaned forward slightly.

"I see you have quite a bit of knowledge about the battles between the two armies in the story, that's very good."

"My lady, these are just some anecdotes I found in history books, plus some fabrications I made up myself. They're not presentable at all."

Zhou Ming quickly lowered his posture; this was not the time to show off.

Being exposed is no laughing matter. He doesn't know if his strength is enough to save his life in this world, so he should keep a low profile and hide.

"I see..." Su Mingyue hesitated for a moment, then tapped her index finger lightly on the table.

"You can also go in and read the books on the third floor of the library, but you can't share them with others."

Zhou Ming was overjoyed and quickly bowed, saying, "Thank you for your kindness, Miss."

He didn't know what books were on the third floor of the library, but since the young lady had specifically instructed that they not be circulated, the things inside must be precious.

The first floor of the Hou Mansion's library contained primers and common classics and histories, while the second floor contained poems, songs, and works by various philosophers.

Both floors can be borrowed by any steward of the Marquis's residence who is literate to a certain degree.

But the third floor, according to his previous understanding, was only accessible to the master of the Marquis's mansion and a limited number of other people.

Now that the young lady has given him this privilege, it's not just a reward for his storytelling, but also a form of recognition.

In this way, he will have a source for the stories he tells and the things he says in the future.

Su Mingyue waved her hand, and Zhou Ming tactfully withdrew.

It was already noon when we left the inner courtyard.

After a quick lunch, Zhou Ming gave Liu Sandao a few instructions about the kitchen before heading straight into the library.

He climbed the stairs to the third floor and pushed open the heavy wooden door with copper trim.

A unique scent of aged books mixed with moth-repelling herbs wafted over.

The third floor was smaller than he had imagined, only half the size of the two floors below, but the books on the shelves were indeed much more numerous and valuable than those on the first and second floors.

Most of the books here are handwritten copies, with yellowed paper and varying shades of brown stains on the edges from the passage of time.

Some were even written on silk, carefully rolled into scrolls and placed in sandalwood boxes.

He casually flipped through a few books, which contained military strategies, official and unofficial histories, rare editions of works from various schools of thought, and even fragments of banned books from previous dynasties.

If these books were left out in the open, any one of them would be fought over by readers.

Now that Zhou Ming's soul is powerful, he can clearly and accurately imprint every word on the page into his mind with a single sweep of his divine sense.

He sat at his desk by the window, flipping through the pages as he took notes, his speed as fast as an autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves.

In one afternoon, he flipped through no fewer than a hundred books.

From the Seven Military Classics to the Geography of the Nine Provinces, from the True Records of the Border Defense of Youzhou to the Study on the Evolution of the Official System of the Great Xia Dynasty.

Zhou Ming memorized every single word of it.

After closing the last book and rubbing his slightly throbbing temples, Zhou Ming walked out of the library.

Back in his room that evening, Zhou Ming sat cross-legged on the bed as usual, focusing his consciousness on the causal network between his eyebrows.

Then he froze.

The web of cause and effect, which had become somewhat sparse due to the war, began to grow denser once again.

Moreover, this time the scale is more astonishing than any before.

In just one day, hundreds of thousands, nearly a million, of virtual images were added.

Those phantoms densely covered the entire area of ​​perception and continued to spread outwards from the edges at a visible speed.

It's like someone sowed seeds in the most fertile soil, and overnight, countless tender shoots sprouted.

Zhou Ming sat in the darkness, silent for a long while.

A million phantom images in a single day is something no single power could achieve, nor could it be driven by the decision of a single person.

This scripture has been spread out on a large scale and in a frenzied manner by someone completely unaware of it.