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

Zhou Ming placed the longsword flat on his lap, slowly closed his eyes, and extended his divine sense to envelop the longsword.

The moment his divine sense touched the sword, he clearly felt a faint connection being established between the sword and himself.

It was as if an extremely thin and tough thread connected his consciousness to the sword.

Zhou Ming tried to use his divine sense to push the longsword. The longsword trembled slightly and slowly rose from his knees, hovering in mid-air in front of him.

With a thought, the longsword spun around the room as if it were his own arm.

Sometimes it stands upright, sometimes it sweeps horizontally, and sometimes it circles between the pillars seven or eight times at an extremely fast speed, leaving only a blurry black shadow.

Zhou Ming became more and more adept at it, and the longsword, driven by his divine sense, sometimes circled around the roof beam.

Sometimes it skims silently along the ground, and sometimes it moves slowly upside down on the ceiling.

He aimed the sword tip at the curtain he had accidentally knocked askew, then used the hilt to push it back to its original position.

Unfortunately, he didn't know how to inscribe formations. If he could inscribe aerial formations and offensive formations on the sword, the power of this flying sword would be at least several times greater.

He played in the room for about half an hour before reluctantly recalling his longsword.

The longsword flew back to his hand silently, the blade trembled slightly before falling silent, and a faint trace of warmth remained on the dark, dull blade.

Zhou Ming placed the sword flat on his lap and carefully wiped it with a clean cloth.

Just then, the old warehouse manager's footsteps could be heard outside the palace gate.

The warehouse manager stood at the door holding a thick stack of ledgers, bowed, and handed over the newly compiled gift list.

Zhou Ming took the booklet and flipped through it page by page. It was filled with the names of the gift givers, the names of the gifts, and their estimated value.

The original aristocratic families of Yuyang County, as well as those who fled from other places, all sent people to deliver gifts.

They offered either gold and silver jewelry or jade and calligraphy and paintings; each household expressed their opinion according to their own means.

However, there were a few companies whose names never appeared at all, no matter how many times you scrolled through them.

Zhou Ming knew these families well. Although some of their relatives held nominal positions in the court, these people often gossiped about him behind his back.

They said he came from a lowly background, was a lackey of a rich young lady, was vicious, and would die a horrible death sooner or later.

Zhou Ming didn't have any deep-seated hatred for these people; it was just that these families occupied official positions in the new dynasty.

On the one hand, they are unwilling to contribute a single drop of blood to the operation of the new dynasty; keeping such people around is a waste of resources.

He leaned back in his chair and pondered for a while, then got up and walked to his desk, spread out a piece of mulberry paper, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began to write a letter to Su Mingyue.

He wrote down a brief summary of the recent events in Yuyang County.

He wrote about the new emperor's struggles, his blatant misrepresentation of events, and how the eldest son became the prefect. He also described in detail how he accepted gifts.

Finally, he specifically listed the families who did not send gifts, and then changed the subject.

This indicates that he intends to target these families, confiscating their assets to fund the military treasury and lay the foundation for future military spending.

After finishing writing, he sealed the letter and had it sent by hawk to the front lines in Qingzhou. Zhou Ming never stepped out of the Wuying Hall again.

He closed the palace doors and ordered the guards not to disturb him unless necessary.

Then he sat cross-legged on the low couch and began the most exciting research he had ever conducted since his transmigration.

Techniques.

In my past life, I read cultivation novels on Tomato, where cultivators could casually conjure fireballs the size of washbasins, summon roaring water dragons, and erect earthen walls to block thousands of troops with a wave of their hands.

He used to stay up late reading it in his dorm room, tossing and turning in his blankets on the top bunk, wishing he could enter the book and become a powerful immortal.

Now he has truly entered, and his Nascent Soul stage magic power is genuinely circulating in his dantian.

Although the flying sword was a counterfeit without any formation, at least it could fly.

Next, I have to figure out how to create those spells that I've been eyeing for so many years, one by one.

Zhou Mingxian began by studying the most basic Five Elements magic.

Fireball is the most basic spell in all cultivation novels, and its principle sounds the simplest.

He transformed his magic into flames, condensed them into a sphere, and launched it.

Zhou Ming extended his right hand, opened his palm, and mobilized the magical power in his dantian to flow along the meridians to his palm. Then, he visualized a ball of flame condensing and taking shape above his palm.

A purple-gold infant fire surged from his palm, initially just a small, thin flame.

He tried to roll it into a ball, but when he withdrew his magic, the flame not only failed to form a ball, but also went out with a "poof".

He refused to believe it and tried again. This time, the flame formed a crooked oval, swayed twice in the air, and then dissipated.

He tried it more than ten times and gradually figured it out.

One's divine sense should not merely focus on the shape of the flame, but should instead weave an invisible net around it, using magical power to evenly compress it from all directions toward the center, while continuously injecting new magical power to maintain the flame's temperature.

Once he mastered the trick, a perfectly round fireball, the size of a fist and entirely purple-gold, finally hovered steadily above his palm.

The fireball spun silently, its center a blinding white, its outer flame a deep purple-gold, the heat emanating from it causing the surrounding air to distort slightly.

Zhou Ming stared at the fireball and grinned with satisfaction. Then, he carefully withdrew his magic power, and the fireball silently closed, shrank, and extinguished like a blooming flower.

Although it's a fireball spell created from infant fire, it's still a fireball.

Having gained a little experience with the fireball spell, Zhou Ming began to study other spells.

He used fireball, water dragon, earth wall, wind blade, and thorns spells in a bizarre and incoherent manner.

Next are spells related to perception and object control.

He already had a foundation; he had already gained experience in divine sense detection and object manipulation techniques with flying swords, and quickly mastered them.

Another point is the method of casting defensive spells like the Spirit Shield.

Zhou Ming succeeded on his first attempt, releasing his divine sense and magical power simultaneously, forming a nearly transparent purple-gold light membrane three feet away from his body.

He used his magic to control an inkstone to fall from above his head. The inkstone hit the shield and bounced off. The light membrane flashed briefly and then returned to normal.

The Dust-Avoiding Technique involves attaching magical power to the surface of clothing to form an extremely thin protective layer. Dust that falls on it will automatically slide off. If a cup of tea is spilled on it, the tea will run down the robe, leaving the fabric dry and like new.

The Thunder Spell requires drawing upon the thunderous energy of heaven and earth, transforming it into extremely fine, purple-gold arcs of electricity that crackle at the fingertips.

Zhou Ming dared not test it inside the hall, but instead flicked a thin bolt of lightning with his finger, which struck the earthen wall and scorched a small patch of it.

Over the next few days, Zhou Ming became completely immersed in the fervor of studying magic.

The doors of the Wuying Hall remained tightly closed, and the guards only occasionally heard strange noises coming from inside.

Sometimes it's a low hum, sometimes a sharp whistling sound, sometimes a splashing sound of water, and sometimes a crackling sound like something rolling across the tiles.