When Zhou Ming was carried back to his room, he was like a pile of mud.

Two guards dumped him onto the bed, held back their laughter, and turned to leave.

Lying on the bed, Zhou Ming did not even have the strength to turn over. He just lay on his back, staring at the water stains on the ceiling beams left by the passage of time, panting heavily.

His legs were still trembling uncontrollably, he could not lift his arms, and he could not even clench his fingers into a fist, as if someone had drained half the sinews from his body while he was asleep.

His afternoon meal was delivered by a servant from the Kitchen.

When the servant knocked on the door carrying the food box, Zhou Ming initially wanted to sit up.

After all, he needed to maintain some of the dignity a manager should have in front of his new subordinate.

But after struggling twice, his waist had barely left the bedboard by half an inch before it slammed back down heavily.

He could only lie there and let the person place the food box on the small table by the bed, saying in a hoarse voice, "Just leave it there."

When the servant backed out, Zhou Ming clearly saw his mouth pressed tightly shut and his eyelids lowered, desperately holding back laughter.

He did not need to think to know that he had been carried by the two guards all the way from the Martial Arts Training Ground through most of the outer courtyard; who knew how many people had seen him looking like a dead dog.

The Kitchen must already know about it as well.

On his first day in a new position, he had been trained by the head maid until he had to be carried back; he had truly lost all face.

Yet he really could not move, so he just lay there, unable to even turn over to get the food from the box.

Just like that, with his stomach growling, he lay there feeling like life was meaningless.

He drifted in and out of consciousness until the afternoon. Drowsiness washed over him, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and he fell asleep without knowing when.

In his hazy state, a warm current surged from Zhou Ming's lower abdomen.

It was not a slow seepage, but an explosive burst.

It was as if someone had ignited a spark in his Dantian, and then that spark had instantly turned into a sheet of scorching magma.

That warm current surged along his Meridians into his limbs and bones at an extremely fast speed.

It passed through his waist and hips, his thighs, his knees, all the way down to the tips of his toes.

Then it rushed upward, passing through his chest, his shoulders, his elbows, straight to the tips of every finger.

The soreness in his entire body was washed away in an instant, like snow under the scorching sun, evaporating before it even had time to melt.

Replacing it was an extreme sense of comfort.

It was not the lazy warmth of soaking in a hot spring, but something more thorough and clear.

Every muscle, every bone, and every sinew in his whole body felt as if it had been soaked in a medicinal broth at the perfect temperature, washed through from the inside out.

The feeling was so intense that Zhou Ming even thought he was dreaming in his hazy state.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

It was not a dream.

The soreness in his body had indeed disappeared without a trace.

He tried moving his fingers.

His fingers clenched into a fist, his knuckles cracking twice; it was much more nimble than usual.

Zhou Ming tried lifting his arms; his arms lifted steadily, and the muscles behind his shoulder blades were no longer sore.

He straightened his waist and sat up, looking down at his hands and legs; they were still the same skinny, stick-like appearance.

Blue veins were faintly visible on his thin arms, and his wrists were so thin they looked like they could be snapped with a pinch, but the feeling inside was completely different.

Zhou Ming steadied himself and focused his attention on his brow.

That Causality Web was still hanging there quietly, and the thick, iron-wire-like Causal Chain of Fang Yuan was still there.

Zhuzi's was also there, and a few newly formed threads were also slowly solidifying.

But among them, there was one—Zhou Ming clearly remembered its thickness and position—that had already broken.

That Causal Chain had once been thinner than Fang Yuan's, but thicker than Zhuzi's; it was one of the top-ranked ones in this web.

Now it looked like a snapped lute string, with both ends hanging down, its luster rapidly fading.

Zhou Ming stared at that rapidly dimming light, his breath hitching for a beat.

He had guessed correctly.

The information transmitted to him by that scripture was very clear: when a Cultivator dies, their cultivation base returns entirely to the transmitter of the scripture.

He did not know who the person who died was.

Zhuzi had been captured; he had seen it at the time.

He did not know if Fang Yuan had been captured, and there were the names of the remaining people that Zhou Ming had not even had time to match one by one from the Causal Chain.

But that was not important. What was important was that one of those people had already died, and the power that person had cultivated had all returned to him.

Zhou Ming got off the bed and stood in the middle of the room.

His body was still the same as before, skinny as a stick, skin and bones, with the contours of his shoulder blades clearly visible.

He examined himself for a moment, then turned to feel the power within his body.

He had never seen a Martial Artist in the Skin Refining Realm in action, so he did not know how much strength they had.

Nor had he seen a Cultivator in action, so he did not know how their power operated.

But there was definitely something in his body now.

That thing was not much, like a small pool of hot water locked in a crack in a stone, but it truly existed.

He could feel that his current strength should be no less than that of a Martial Artist in the Skin Refining Realm.

Zhou Ming tried to use his will to guide that Qi.

As soon as he had the thought, that Qi surged along his Meridians, without any hesitation or blockage.

When Zhou Ming made it go to his arms, it went to his palms.

When he made it sink to the soles of his feet, it landed steadily at the Yongquan acupoints.

When he made it circle the Du Meridian, it obediently traveled along his spine.

The whole process was incredibly smooth; he did not need to learn any method of circulating Qi at all.

The cultivation base inherited from the scripture was like something that had always grown on him, used with masterful skill, as easily as moving his own arm.

Zhou Ming stood in the room for a while, then thought of another matter.

This power had been inherited, but he could not explain its origin.

As a lowly servant who could not even kill a chicken, if he suddenly possessed the strength of a Martial Artist in the Skin Refining Realm, how would he explain it if someone noticed?

It was because Zhuzi could not control his strength and punched through someone's stomach that he was exposed.

The warning was right there, and he did not want to follow in his footsteps.

Zhou Ming thought about how to hide his power.

He concentrated his mind on his Dantian, gathered all that Qi, and then silently thought about how to hide it.

As soon as he had the thought, the Qi in his Dantian instantly vanished, like a stone sinking into a deep pool, not even leaving a ripple.

Zhou Ming was stunned for a moment, raised his hand to clench his fist, and moved his shoulders again, discovering that his strength had not changed.

It was not that the power had disappeared, but that the aura had been concealed by some more advanced means.

From his outward appearance, he was no different from the weak servant who had no strength to truss a chicken.

Zhou Ming moved his mind again, releasing the Qi in his Dantian.

That warm power instantly surged back into his limbs and bones, filling his whole body.

Retract again.

It disappeared completely again.

At this moment, Zhou Ming realized that this power inherited from the scripture could actually be hidden at will.

Just a thought, and it could be retracted or released freely.

This was countless times more advanced than Zhuzi's state of being unable to control his strength and punching through people.

The scripture gave the Cultivator power, but it also gave him, Zhou Ming, unique control.

Those who cultivated for him just piled up their cultivation base, and as soon as they died...

How to use this power, when to use it, and how much to use, was all up to him.

He sat by the bed for a moment, going over this discovery from beginning to end.

The power flowing to him after a Cultivator died showed that the rules the scripture had promised him from the beginning were true.

Moreover, it did not matter how far away they were; no matter where they died, their cultivation base would return to him.

Then, as long as these people who successfully cultivated died in the future, their cultivation base would all return to him just the same.

Thinking of this, he looked up out the window.

Outside the window paper was a gray light, and in the distance came the footsteps of guards and servants.

It was no different from any other dull afternoon.

Zhou Ming retracted the Qi in his Dantian again, stood up from the bed, and moved his shoulders, waist, and legs; there was not a hint of soreness from just being trained.

He poured himself a bowl of cold tea, gulped down a few mouthfuls, and then sat on the edge of the bed to start eating.

While eating, Zhou Ming pondered.

The Marquis's Estate should have started investigating the matter of the scripture. Given the nature of these noble families, they would certainly stop at nothing to seize this Heaven-Defying Opportunity and turn it into their own power.

In that case, before long, the Marquis's Estate would likely become the main transmitter of the scripture. However, he did not know when other noble families would discover it.

Take it slow; caution is paramount.

First, secure the job as the Kitchen manager, endure Dongmei's training, and reduce everyone's suspicion of him to zero.

Once this storm passes, he would consider the matter of transmitting the scripture himself.