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

Zhou Ming arrived at the storeroom of Wuying Hall.

This storeroom was specially set aside by him after he took over the palace to store gifts.

The old storekeeper brought from the Marquis's residence was a thin old man in his fifties, who was very meticulous in his work.

Every item was registered, and the labels were written neatly, clearly indicating who sent it, when it was sent, and its estimated value.

Zhou Ming walked around the warehouse for a long time. The shelves were filled with calligraphy and paintings by famous artists, rare ancient books, porcelain from previous dynasties, and armor and swords inlaid with gold and jade. There was also a whole white tiger skin hanging on the wall, its fur so bright that it looked like it had just been taken off a tiger.

Unfortunately, in Zhou Ming's eyes, these things were no different from the firewood piled up outside the back door of the kitchen; he couldn't sense any spiritual energy in them.

After wandering around for a while, he stopped in his tracks only when he saw a piece of jade about half his height in the corner.

This jade stone is entirely bluish-green, with a warm and smooth texture, and faintly exudes a subtle spiritual energy.

Zhou Ming squatted down and touched the surface of the jade. It was warm to the touch, and spiritual energy seeped into his meridians through his fingers. Although it was as thin as a hair, it was undoubtedly spiritual energy.

"Carry this to my room." Zhou Ming stood up, dusted off his hands, and ordered the captain behind him.

Then he frowned and added, "Help me find out which family has any hard minerals or anything unusual. I'll buy them at a high price."

The captain, expressionless, clasped his hands in acceptance of the order, turned, and walked out.

Zhou Ming stood in the room, looking down at the jade stone at his feet that was half a person's height.

He rubbed his fingers together slightly, and a wisp of purplish-gold flame silently appeared at his fingertips.

When the flame is brought close to the jade, the bluish-green jade melts silently in the face of the flame, like a piece of lard being thrown into a hot pan.

The jade liquid flowed down the stone, shrinking with each inch it flowed. In less than a quarter of an hour, the half-person-high jade stone transformed into a ball of emerald green liquid no bigger than a little finger, which hung in the center of the infant fire and slowly rotated.

Zhou Ming's lips twitched.

Such a large piece of jade, burned down to this tiny thing, what can it be used for?

He shook his head, thinking it was better than nothing, and used his mind to control the emerald green liquid into the shape of a ring before retracting the infant fire.

The liquid rapidly cooled and solidified in the air, transforming in a short time into a ring entirely of emerald green, its surface as smooth as a mirror, with faint, silk-like shimmering light flowing slowly within.

Zhou Ming picked up the ring and examined it for a while in the sunlight streaming through the window, then nodded.

If this thing were placed in a jewelry store, it would be a priceless treasure. Just the shimmering light inside the ring face would be enough to make wealthy ladies fight tooth and nail for it.

While Zhou Ming was forging the ring in his room, the city of Yuyang was in an uproar.

The news came from the Imperial Guards at Xuanwu Gate.

The former Steward Zhou, who didn't care about gold or silver or beautiful women, and whose gifts depended on his mood.

They actually took the initiative to say that they wanted a hard, rare and unusual mineral.

As soon as the news spread, those scheming individuals who wanted to curry favor with Zhou Ming but couldn't find a way to do so were immediately excited and their eyes lit up.

In less than half a day, a long queue formed in front of the Xuanwu Gate, which is near the Wuying Hall of the imperial palace, as people came in an endless stream to give gifts.

There were antique shop owners carrying oddly shaped ores, old military officers holding ancestral meteorite iron, hunters carrying unknown metals dug from deep in the mountains, and even several people working together to carry a huge, dark rock.

The line stretched from the Xuanwu Gate along the base of the palace wall all the way to the outside of the alley.

After listening to the captain's report, Zhou Ming scanned the area outside Xuanwu Gate with his divine sense. Among the pile of messy ores, he only sensed a few pieces with faint spiritual energy fluctuations.

The rest were all ordinary items: some better quality copper and iron ore, a few decent-quality crystals, and a bunch of broken stones that even the person who gave them to them couldn't identify.

Zhou Ming originally wanted to have the captain send these people away directly, but he swallowed the words back and rolled his eyes.

Su Mingyue was fighting on the front lines, and the amount of silver she spent on food and fuel for the horses every day was astronomical.

People are lining up to put things in his hands, so why not take them?

He himself had no interest in these gold and silver jewels, but Su Mingyue's military expenses required a huge amount of silver.

He told the captain the locations of the several spiritually potent minerals one by one, and also asked him to leak a message to outsiders.

Manager Zhou said that it would be better to send silver directly than to bring those scraps of metal.

As soon as these words spread, the winds in Yuyang County immediately shifted again.

Those who had been driven away with their ore turned around and found silver notes and gold ingots in their storerooms, and lined up again in front of Xuanwu Gate.

The people who came were different; they were all stewards and direct descendants of various aristocratic families, each carrying a mahogany tray with a thick stack of silver notes on it.

Zhou Ming had his men register all the delivered items, exchange the banknotes for silver, and carry them into the warehouse box by box.

The old warehouse manager was so busy that sweat beaded on his forehead, and the abacus beads clicked and clattered all afternoon without stopping.

After arranging things at Xuanwu Gate, Zhou Ming picked up the few pieces of ore that the captain had accepted for him and weighed them one by one.

Two pieces of hard, jet-black ore caught his attention.

He couldn't match this ore to the mineral atlas in the library; it was completely black and felt heavy in his hand.

It was more than twice as heavy as an iron ore of the same size, and its surface had a cold metallic luster.

Zhou Ming tried tapping it with his fingertip, but the ore didn't produce the dull sound of stone; instead, it emitted an extremely low, metallic hum.

Stop worrying about what this thing is. Whatever it is, just try it and you'll find out.

Zhou Ming sat cross-legged, rubbed two fingers together, and a wisp of purple-gold infant fire appeared. He then threw the first piece of black ore into the flame.

The ore was much more heat-resistant than the jade from before, and it held up in the infant fire for quite a while before it began to soften.

He wasn't in a hurry; he sat cross-legged and slowly burned the embers.

After an unknown amount of time, the first piece of ore finally turned into a fist-sized ball of dark silver liquid, and then the second piece of ore also melted in the infant fire.

Zhou Ming fused the two clumps of liquid together, stretched and shaped them with his divine sense, and carefully adjusted the curvature of the blade, the thickness of the guard, and the length of the hilt according to the image of the longsword in his mind.

Once the shape was completely fixed, he slowly withdrew the infant fire, allowing the longsword to cool naturally in mid-air.

The cooled longsword was completely black with a matte finish, devoid of any patterns or decorations, as plain as a rough blank just unearthed from the most inconspicuous corner of a blacksmith's shop.

Zhou Ming gripped the hilt; it felt cool and heavy, much lighter than an iron sword of the same size.

But it's not the kind of lightness that's flimsy; it's a perfect weight that makes you feel like the sword is an extension of your body when you hold it.

Zhou Ming tried to infuse a wisp of magic power into the sword.

The longsword trembled violently, and a dark, deep light suddenly shone on its blade, more profound and restrained than the cold light he had seen on the ordinary iron longsword.

Then the sword remained steadily in his hand, safely withstanding his magical power without cracking or shattering.

It became.