Zhou Ming, who was sleeping soundly, was jolted awake by a scream.

The sound was sharp and piercing, like a knife abruptly slicing through the silence of the morning.

Immediately after came the sound of chaotic footsteps and gasps of shock rising one after another.

Zhou Ming sprang up from his bed, his sleepiness vanishing in an instant.

Zhou Ming took a deep breath, slipped on his shoes, pushed open the door, and rushed into the alley.

The sky outside was still somewhat dim, but a large crowd had already gathered outside the alley.

They were all low-ranking servants from the outer courtyard, including third-class manservants, handymen, and Kitchen helpers.

The crowd formed an irregular circle, with everyone's gaze fixed on the center; no one spoke, only the sound of repressed, rhythmic gasps of cold air could be heard.

Zhou Ming pushed through the crowd to look inside, where a dark, thin, and short person was squatting on the ground.

He was currently holding his head with both hands, his ten fingers clutching his hair tightly.

His shoulders were heaving violently, his entire body trembling like a winnowing sieve, and he was stuttering words out intermittently.

"I didn't want to..."

"He was the one who wanted to bully me... He was the one who wanted to hit me."

"I only resisted... I just lightly punched him once..."

"I really didn't mean it... I really didn't want to kill him..."

The voice was squeezed out from between his teeth, hoarse and broken, carrying a sobbing tone yet unable to actually cry, as if his throat were stuffed with cotton.

Zhou Ming shifted his gaze away from him and onto the handcart nearby, his pupils constricting sharply.

A massive body lay supine on the ground; judging by the size, it was at least two hundred jin, with layers of fat bulging out from the gaps in his clothes.

But now, there was a hole in that stomach.

A fist-sized hole, piercing straight through the center of the abdomen, with jagged edges, as if something had exploded from within.

Intestines and fragments of internal organs flowed out through the hole, emitting faint steam in the morning chill.

The fat man was spitting out blood foam, his throat making a "hehe" sound like a leaking bellows; he couldn't catch his breath, nor could he swallow that final breath.

His fingers were still twitching, scratching at the mud on the ground one by one, carving out a few shallow grooves.

Zhou Ming saw that the fat man's eyes were still rolling; he hadn't completely died yet.

His stomach churned, but he forcibly suppressed the urge to retch.

Then he noticed something else: hovering above the head of the dark, thin figure squatting on the ground was a solid Causal Chain.

Although that chain was not as thick as the one belonging to Fang Yuan, it had already solidly formed, shimmering with a faint light in the morning twilight that only Zhou Ming could see.

The other end of the chain was connected to the center of his own brow.

Zhou Ming's heart gave a sudden jolt.

Wasn't this one of the Causal Chains that Fang Yuan had passed on?

Fang Yuan had passed them to Zhuzi, A-Gui, and a few others; several of them had already successfully Cultivated it.

The dark, thin boy before him was one of those who had succeeded.

Before Zhou Ming could take a closer look, a burst of hurried footsteps sounded from the entrance of the alley.

Chunlan of Begonia Court arrived at the scene with a squad of guards in quick steps.

Chunlan was one of the four personal maids of the Young Miss, managing all affairs within Begonia Court.

Her gaze swept over the ground, first looking at the twitching fat man, then at the thin man squatting on the ground pulling his hair; her brows furrowed slightly, then immediately returned to her usual calm.

"Disperse the crowd," she said indifferently.

The guards immediately stepped forward and pushed the onlookers outward.

"Scatter! What are you looking at! Go back to your duties!"

The crowd was pushed back, stumbling, yet no one was willing to leave; after retreating a few steps, they stopped and stretched their necks to continue watching.

Two more guards stepped forward, hoisting the thin man squatting on the ground up from the left and right.

When the thin man was hoisted up, his legs had already gone limp, his knees dragging on the ground for two steps, while he kept muttering, "I really didn't mean it."

The guard swiftly pulled out a hemp rope and tied his hands firmly behind his back.

The crowd dispersed to the perimeter began to whisper among themselves in twos and threes.

Their voices were kept very low, as if afraid of being heard by Chunlan, yet they could not suppress the shock and curiosity.

"Isn't that Zhuzi? The Zhuzi from the stables?"

"Since when did Zhuzi become so powerful?"

"How dare he kill Steward Zhang... Steward Zhang is the manager of the Kitchen!"

"Look at Steward Zhang's stomach; is that something you can do with one punch? Are Zhuzi's hands made of iron?"

"Has Zhuzi been possessed by a demon? I heard there's been trouble with demon-people near the ruined temple outside the city..."

"Don't talk nonsense! Do you want to die?"

"I heard Steward Zhang and Zhuzi are fellow villagers, from the same village."

"What do you know? Steward Zhang has been bullying Zhuzi for years. Ever since the day they were sold into the Marquis's estate together, Zhuzi hasn't stopped taking beatings from him."

"Were they sold to the Marquis's estate together?"

"They came together, but Steward Zhang knows how to play the game, knows how to suck up to superiors, climbing all the way from a third-class manservant to Kitchen manager."

"Zhuzi is honest and slow-witted, so he's always been stuck in the stables raising horses."

"I heard Steward Zhang has been skimming most of Zhuzi's monthly wages for years, never stopping."

"It seems Zhuzi has finally reached his limit..."

"Reaching his limit doesn't mean he can kill someone. Now look, a life for a life; I'm afraid Zhuzi won't be able to keep his life either."

Zhou Ming stood at the very back of the crowd, taking in every word of these discussions.

Zhuzi's identity, Steward Zhang's identity, and the feud between them.

He quickly pieced together the complete picture.

Zhuzi was one of the third-class manservants who raised horses for the Young Miss, and also one of the first few people to whom Fang Yuan had taught the Dushi Sutra.

And the fat man lying on the ground, who looked like he was about to draw his last breath, was the manager of the Begonia Court Kitchen, surnamed Zhang, and a fellow villager of Zhuzi.

The two had been sold into the Marquis's estate together since they were young, yet one had climbed up while the other had been trampled underfoot for who knows how many years.

Early this morning, Zhuzi was pulling soybeans from the warehouse with a few other third-class manservants from the stables when they passed through this alley and ran into Steward Zhang, who was heading to the Kitchen.

Steward Zhang was probably bored, or perhaps bullying Zhuzi had long since become a habit, so he took pleasure in tormenting Zhuzi just as he always did.

A couple of shoves, a few slaps, and some nasty insults.

In Steward Zhang's eyes, this was likely nothing more than a pastime, but he didn't know that Zhuzi was no longer the same Zhuzi who would let anyone slaughter him.

Zhuzi had Cultivated the Dushi Sutra; after reading it a hundred times, he had already cultivated magical power in his Dantian.

He did not know that he was already a Qi Condensation stage powerhouse.

Having been bullied by Steward Zhang for so many years, each and every grievance had accumulated in the heart of a taciturn man, just like packing gunpowder layer by layer into an iron barrel.

Until this morning, when that slap from Steward Zhang was likely the final layer pressed down.

Zhuzi's hot blood rushed to his head, and he punched Steward Zhang in the stomach.

He probably just wanted to resist once, just wanted to tell this person, "I have strength now too, don't bully me anymore."

But he had only just started to Cultivate, and the magical power within his body was far from being able to be controlled freely.