Zhou Ming did not linger in front of the Zheng Mansion.

He waited for the black-armored soldiers to escort the hundred or so members of the Zheng family, one by one, onto the prison carts.

Zhou Ming assigned over a hundred soldiers and a few clerks from the Ministry of Justice to stay behind to continue searching for property, inventorying land deeds, and sealing the warehouses, while he himself swung onto his horse.

The long sword gifted by Empress Su Mingyue still hung by his saddle, casting a cold, chilling gleam in the sunlight.

Zhou Ming flicked the reins and led the large troop westward along the main street.

The next target: the Meng Family.

The head of the Meng Family, Minister Meng Xi, had previously pointed at Zhou Ming's nose in the imperial court, in front of all the civil and military officials, and cursed him, "A mere servant, daring to run to the imperial court and pretend to be a great talent."

Zhou Ming had certainly not forgotten these heart-piercing words.

His memory was always excellent, especially when it came to remembering grudges; he never needed to take notes.

The Meng Family's residence was slightly smaller than the Zheng Mansion, but it could still be considered one of the notable large estates in the west of the city.

With vermilion-painted gateposts and green brick courtyard walls, the plaque above the lintel was inscribed with the two characters for "Meng Mansion" in vigorous, powerful strokes, showing that the Meng Family's ancestors had once been prosperous.

Yet, at this moment, the residence was abnormally quiet.

The wailing from the Zheng Mansion and the rumbling of the prison carts had already spread throughout the entire district; it was impossible for the Meng Family not to have heard.

As the army just turned the corner of the alley, the two tightly closed vermilion gates of the Meng Family were suddenly pushed open from the inside.

The two gate panels slammed against the walls on both sides with a dull echo, causing dust to fall from the lintel in showers.

A figure dressed in a purple silk robe stumbled out from inside the gate.

Scrambling and crawling, he crossed the steps in front of the gate, ran across the bluestone road, and reached a spot five or six paces in front of Zhou Ming's horse before dropping to his knees with a thud.

This person was none other than Minister Meng Xi.

He knelt on the ground, his hands braced on the stone slab in front of his knees, his shoulders heaving violently as he gasped for air.

His official cap had fallen off, and his hair hung disheveled over his shoulders.

Sweat beads from his forehead streamed down his graying temples, and his entire face was twisted almost out of shape by extreme terror.

He lifted his head, his voice intermittent due to his heavy gasping, yet he raised it with all his might, as if afraid Zhou Ming wouldn't hear:

"Lord Zhou! I support the promotion of the New Law! I support the promotion of the New Law! The Meng Family is willing to take the lead in implementing it! I, Minister Meng Xi, will be the first to promote it!"

Zhou Ming sat on his horse, looking down from above at the head of the Meng Family, who was kowtowing like a pestle pounding garlic.

His gaze rested on Minister Meng Xi's face for a moment, and he said slowly and deliberately:

"Oh? The promotion of the New Law will cause no small damage to the interests of your noble families, won't it? Didn't Lord Gongsun say that rashly changing ancestral systems and revising old laws carries the danger of overturning the state? And yet, you agree?"

"This... this..." A smile, uglier than crying, was squeezed onto Minister Meng Xi's face, which was twisted with fear. His lips trembled for a long while before he managed to squeeze out a complete sentence.

"My Lord... I... I am prepared to resign from my official post and retire to seclusion, never to concern myself with worldly affairs again."

"The hundred or so members of the Meng Family—I will take them back to our hometown in the countryside immediately and will never cause trouble for the imperial court again. I beg for your permission, My Lord!"

He was truly terrified.

Even the powerful Zheng Family, which kept several Blood Refining Realm Martial Artists in their mansion, couldn't withstand a single sword strike from Zhou Ming, and over a hundred people were put into prison carts in the blink of an eye.

What did his Meng Family have? A few guards, a few blades; they couldn't even touch the threshold of the Blood Refining Realm.

He was scared out of his wits and now didn't want to get involved in the New Law matter even in the slightest.

All that talk about the state being overturned and ancestral systems not being changeable was all bullshit.

There is an old saying: there are no thousand-year dynasties, but there are thousand-year noble families.

Whether the state was overturned or not had absolutely nothing to do with his Meng Family.

His mind was now filled with only one thought: take his whole family and run, run as far away as possible, run back to their hometown, and safely hide from this impending disaster.

Zhou Ming looked down at him, the smile on his face deepening slightly.

He spoke slowly, his tone still unhurried:

"Heh heh... Minister Meng Xi, you are thinking quite wishfully."

Zhou Ming tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over Minister Meng Xi's knees kneeling on the ground. Suddenly, his tone shifted, carrying an extremely obvious note of nitpicking,

"Minister Meng Xi, when you knelt down just now, your two knees did not land at the same time."

"What? Do you look down on me, a mere servant? Do you think I am not worth you kneeling with both knees at the same time?"

Minister Meng Xi was completely stunned.

He opened his mouth wide, widened his eyes, and his face was filled with confusion and disbelief.

His knees did not land at the same time?

He had been running so hurriedly just now, and he had just dropped to his knees with a thud—who would notice whether they landed at the same time?

This... what kind of ridiculous excuse was this?

He looked up at Zhou Ming, wanting to find even the slightest trace of a joke on that face.

But all he saw was a pair of cold eyes and that smirk that made his spine chill.

Only then did he realize that from the very first sentence Zhou Ming spoke, he had never intended to let him go.

Everything about the knees landing was just an excuse; he was holding a grudge over that sentence in the imperial court.

"A mere servant."

It was that very sentence; Minister Meng Xi now wished he could transmigrate back to the morning court and slap that loose-lipped self of his to death.

"My Lord! No! I did not look down on you! That was..." Before he could finish his words, they were completely drowned out by Zhou Ming's next voice.

"Men." Zhou Ming's voice turned abruptly cold, every word clear and resonant.

"The Meng Family and the Zheng Family are birds of a feather, harboring evil intentions. They privately recruited desperate criminals, raised death squads, and colluded in villainy. They exploited the locals, forcibly seized civilian land, and caused grievances to be voiced everywhere."

"The two clans made secret pacts, plotted to carve up the land and proclaim themselves kings, coveted the Divine Artifact, and their treasonous tracks are clearly revealed."

Zhou Ming paused, his gaze sweeping over Minister Meng Xi's face, which had completely lost all color, and then spat out the last few words, one by one.

"Arrest everyone in the Meng Family, throw them into prison, execute them on a chosen day, and confiscate their property."

The black-armored soldiers surged out from behind Zhou Ming like tigers descending a mountain.

Holding their spears, they crossed over the trembling Minister Meng Xi, who was kneeling on the ground, and charged into the wide-open gates of the Meng Mansion.

A short burst of screaming and crying came from inside the mansion, immediately replaced by neat and orderly shouts.

Sealing rooms, arresting people, searching for property—the same procedure, just as efficient.

Minister Meng Xi knelt on the bluestone road, his whole body looking as if his spine had been pulled out, and he collapsed there limply.

His lips trembled violently, and he wanted to say something else, but only indistinct gasps could come from his throat.

Then he began to kowtow, his forehead slamming heavily against the bluestone, one time after another, even harder than before. The skin on his forehead was scraped open by the rough stone surface, and fresh blood streamed down his graying eyebrows:

"My Lord, spare me... My Lord, spare me..."

His voice was hoarse and hollow, "My Lord, I was wrong; I know I was wrong..."

"My Lord, I shouldn't have gone against you; I was wrong; I shouldn't have cursed you... My Lord... I beg you..."

Zhou Ming listened to these repetitive pleas, too lazy to even lift his eyelids.

He never listened to last words, nor did he watch people beg for mercy. If begging for mercy were useful, what would be the need for laws?

Seeing this, two black-armored soldiers stepped forward, grabbed Minister Meng Xi's arms from left and right, and hoisted him up from the ground.

Minister Meng Xi's legs still kicked weakly in mid-air before they threw him into the prison cart.

The iron bars of the prison cart clanged shut. Minister Meng Xi stretched one hand out through the gap in the bars. That hand opened and closed weakly in the autumn wind, its fingernails embedded with the soil and blood stains from when he had been kowtowing just moments before.