Until nightfall, Zhou Ming did not step out of his room again.

The nap in the afternoon and that sudden surge of heat had completely washed away his sleepiness; he just lay flat on the bed frame, hands behind his head, staring listlessly at the ceiling beams.

It was not that Zhou Ming did not want to go out, but rather that he dared not.

He had been carried back in the morning, only to be out and about, lively and active, in the afternoon.

Anyone could tell something was wrong with him.

The room was so quiet that only the occasional chirping of insects outside the window and the faint sound of the night watchman's clapper in the distance remained.

With nothing else to do, Zhou Ming simply summoned the magical power in his Dantian.

Withdraw it, release it, withdraw it again, release it again.

That warm breath wandered back and forth through his Meridians, sometimes sinking to the Yongquan point at the soles of his feet, sometimes rising to the Baihui point, sometimes slowly circling around the Ren and Du Meridians, as obedient as a domesticated loach.

He played with it for a few rounds and felt more and more that this thing was easy to control.

The cultivation base of others, having fallen onto him, was actually more obedient than what he had cultivated himself.

He even tried using his consciousness to guide it to accelerate its circulation; the magical power then transformed from a pool of still water into a rushing stream.

It rushed along the Meridians with a splashing sound, washing away all the soreness and swelling in its path, feeling warm as if a piece of warm jade heated by body temperature had been pressed against him.

Just as Zhou Ming was having fun, the power within his Dantian suddenly surged and grew by a notch.

That Qi was originally just a small, warm existence; it had just been slowly circling in his Meridians, but suddenly expanded without any warning.

It was as if someone had suddenly thrown a giant rock into the deep well of his Dantian, smashing the originally calm water surface into an explosion, with waves of Qi churning and pouring into his limbs and bones.

The momentary impact caused his lower abdomen to contract sharply, and his entire body reflexively sprang up from the bed frame.

"This is..."

Zhou Ming hurriedly sank his consciousness into the Causality Web between his eyebrows.

That dense network still hung quietly within his perception; the Fang Yuan's was still there, Zhuzi's was still there, and a few newly formed threads were slowly solidifying.

But the moment his gaze swept over, another Causal Chain was dimming and shattering at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Both ends dissipated silently, its luster completely extinguished within a few breaths, like a burnt-out wick.

Then it broke, just like the previous one, disappearing completely from the web.

Zhou Ming's breath hitched for a split second.

He knew this one; like the previous one, it should also be one of the people to whom the Fang Yuan had taught the scripture.

Which one it was exactly, he could not distinguish.

His recognition of these Causal Chains was far from detailed enough to know who belonged to whom.

But what he did know was that of the few people the Fang Yuan had passed it on to, at least two were already dead.

He was somewhat dazed.

He did not know how the Fang Yuan was doing.

Zhuzi had been captured and was still in prison.

Judging from the situation of two people dying in succession within a few hours, the situation outside must be very dangerous.

Did the Marquis's Mansion discover that they were practicing the Dushi Sutra? And then kill them?

That does not make sense! Isn't Zhuzi still alive and well? He was the first one to be captured.

Given the aristocratic family's control over their own mansion, they would certainly be able to investigate who was practicing the Dushi Sutra.

It would be very easy to find these people.

After thinking for a long time, Zhou Ming could not come up with any explanation, and there was no way to inquire about this matter.

Sighing, Zhou Ming shifted his attention back to himself.

The Qi in his Dantian had grown another circle larger, burning hotly.

Zhou Ming felt it; the magical power in his Dantian was now several points stronger than when he had first inherited the first Causal Chain.

If an analogy could be made, from the first person to the second, the growth of magical power was not a simple one-plus-one addition; rather, every addition made the total weight even heavier.

Zhou Ming silently circulated that Qi, letting it flow slowly through his Meridians.

This time it was no longer for fun, but to let it settle down steadily and thoroughly integrate this newly acquired power into his own body.

After circulating it for who knew how long, sleepiness finally washed over him again.

Zhou Ming yawned, withdrew the magical power back into his Dantian, turned over, and drifted back to sleep in a daze.

In the middle of the night, Zhou Ming woke up with a start.

This time he woke up even faster than the last time, springing up almost the moment he opened his eyes.

A new wave of magical power was condensing into shape in his Dantian at an extremely fast speed, merging with the mass of magical power Zhou Ming already possessed.

He sat there for a while to recover, feeling the mass in his Dantian slowly stabilize, before exhaling a long breath of turbid air.

No need to think about it, another one was dead.

He calmed his heart and checked the Causality Web between his eyebrows.

Sure enough, the third Causal Chain had snapped.

Of the group of people the Fang Yuan had passed it on to, only the Fang Yuan's, Zhuzi's, and one last Causal Chain belonging to someone unknown remained lit.

The rest had all broken.

Zhou Ming sat quietly in the darkness, not moving for a long time.

He had thought that people would die on this path of passing on the scripture; he had even known the cruelty of this rule from the very beginning.

Live, to Cultivate for him; die, to be inherited by him.

But he had not expected things to ferment so quickly.

How many days has it been? Counting from the day he threw the scripture at the Fang Yuan's feet, it had been no more than a few days at most.

Within just a few days, those who had successfully cultivated had died one after another for various reasons, and all the magical power they had accumulated had flowed into his Dantian.

He lowered his head and tried to circulate the power in his Dantian.

The feeling this time was clearly different from before.

Before, there was "a strand" of Qi in his Dantian; although the amount was constantly increasing, it was at least a single strand, like a pool of warm water in the Dantian flowing through the Meridians in a single line.

Now, when circulating this mass of Qi, he could clearly sense that it was two independent vortices overlapping, each occupying and spinning in the Dantian.

The two strands of Qi did not interfere with each other, yet they could be mobilized simultaneously according to his will; with a single thought, both strands poured into his Meridians, more than twice as heavy as before.

This must be the difference brought about by the superposition of magical power.

Zhou Ming sat cross-legged on the bed, silently recalling the Realm divisions in the Cultivator novels he had read in his past life.

Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, piling up layer by layer.

According to the setting of how many layers there were in the Qi Refinement Stage, the Qi initially formed in his Dantian should be Qi Refining Layer 1.

Now that the two strands of Qi were overlapping, could it be Qi Refining Layer 2?

He dared not be sure, because he had absolutely no idea how the Cultivators of this world divided their Realms.

But then he thought again, this thing called the Dushi Sutra did not seem to belong to the cultivation system of this world at all.

It was a brand-new set of rules itself; regardless of whether you were a Martial Artist or a Cultivator, as long as you recited it a hundred times, you could generate magical power.

The cultivation base of the deceased returned to the person who passed on the scripture, ignoring Spiritual Roots, ignoring Physique, ignoring all talent thresholds.

Using the experience from novels to apply here might not necessarily match up.

But one thing he could be sure of: the more people who died, the thicker the inherited cultivation base, and the stronger the power he possessed.

This thought made him silent for a good while.

He did not know if he should be happy.

What was happy was that the scripture had indeed fulfilled its promise, and he was growing stronger at a speed he himself had not expected.

What was unsettling was that he did not know any of those who died, yet he inexplicably felt as if he owed someone something.

He quickly suppressed this thought.

This world was not the peaceful and prosperous era of his past life that emphasized reason and law.

That assassination on West Mountain had already taught him a lesson with blood.

Here, staying alive was the greatest ability itself.

He shook his head, not letting himself think about those unrelated things anymore.

Zhou Ming lay back on the bed, withdrawing the two strands of Qi in his Dantian to the deepest part, feeling them quietly and tamely circling in his Dantian, and then closed his eyes.

His best choice now was to continue being the Kitchen manager, continue to be drilled by Dongmei, and continue to live safely and steadily in the Marquis's Mansion.