After finishing dinner, Zhou Ming called two handymen in the Kitchen to follow him back to his living quarters to move his belongings.

Since he had been promoted to Steward, his living quarters naturally needed to change as well.

The room Steward Zhang had previously occupied was closer to the Kitchen and much more spacious than the small cubicle he had originally lived in, which could barely fit a bed and a table.

The two handymen were quick and efficient; one carried the bedding roll, and the other carried a wooden chest containing his personal items. Zhou Ming himself, clutching the hundred or so taels of silver left by his predecessor, followed behind with his legs kept straight, maintaining his act of being lame.

The new room was indeed much better than the previous one. At the very least, it could accommodate a proper bed, a square table, two chairs, and there was even a wardrobe in the corner.

The floor was made of tamped yellow earth, which felt much smoother underfoot than the broken brick floor of his previous room.

Steward Zhang's original belongings had already been cleared out by the Kitchen handymen beforehand.

The "Fu" character calligraphy that had originally hung on the wall—no one knew who had written it—had been taken down, leaving behind a rectangular mark that was much lighter in color than the surrounding wall.

The room had been fumigated with mugwort, and a faint, lingering bitter scent still remained in the air.

Even so, standing in this room, Zhou Ming still felt a bit uneasy.

Steward Zhang had only died recently; his massive, two-hundred-plus-pound body had been punched clean through by Zhuzi in an alley not far from the Kitchen.

He did not know which mass grave his corpse was lying in now.

He forced himself not to think about these things and focused his attention on directing the handymen to arrange his belongings.

Bedding on the bed, wooden chest in the corner, teacup and teapot on the table.

Once the handymen finished their work and left, the door closed, and the room grew quiet. Zhou Ming lay flat on the bed, staring at the roof beam above his head—which was twice as thick as the one in his old room—and let out a long breath.

With nothing to do, Zhou Ming focused his intent on the space between his eyebrows.

The Causality Web still hung there quietly. The Causal Chain of the Fang Yuan remained as thick and robust as before, while Zhuzi's had dimmed slightly but was still bright. The other familiar threads were also present.

But right next to these familiar Causal Chains, he saw more.

No. It was a dense, massive patch of them.

He sat up abruptly from the bed, concentrated all his attention on the space between his eyebrows, and counted them one by one.

What was originally only a few dozen Causal Chains had now turned into a small, dense spiderweb.

The newly born threads spread out in layers; some had already solidified and gained substance, while others were still very faint, like willow catkins just blown onto the web by the wind.

Zhou Ming counted carefully twice; there were exactly a hundred or so more.

Zhou Ming took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and analyze the situation.

In just one day, for so many Causal Chains to appear, there were only two possibilities.

First, the Marquis's Mansion had already pried the complete content of the "Dushi Sutra" out of Zhuzi's mouth, and, following Zhuzi's instruction that "reading the book a hundred times reveals the divine art," they had begun finding people to test it.

Over a hundred people reciting it simultaneously—this scale was neither large nor small. If it were the Marquis's Mansion spreading it secretly within their own ranks, it was entirely feasible. Especially with Madam Zhao; given her decisiveness, it was not impossible for her to have deployed it overnight after obtaining the scripture from Zhuzi yesterday.

Second, the copies of the "Dushi Sutra" that he had previously thrown over the walls of various mansions had finally been discovered by one or several families who realized the mystery within and had also begun to have people recite it.

Which one it was, Zhou Ming pondered over the Causality Web for a long time, but he could not reach a definitive conclusion.

Right now, he possessed too little information. He did not know the progress of the Marquis's Mansion's interrogation of Zhuzi, nor did he know what specific arrangements Madam Zhao had made after obtaining the scripture. Even less did he know whether the few scripture books he had thrown out had been swept into the slop bucket as waste paper or locked in a secret chamber by some noble lord as a treasure.

However, after thinking for a long time, he stopped. Regardless of which it was, it was a good thing for him.

Whether the Marquis's Mansion spread it or the noble families discovered it, as long as the scripture was being circulated and everyone was reading it, his Causality Web would become denser and denser.

Once this web covered the entire Yuyang Commandery, then spread to Youzhou, and reached every corner of the Great Xia Dynasty, even if he did nothing and just lay around sleeping every day, a continuous stream of cultivation would flow from the severed Causal Chains into his Dantian.

The night passed without incident. The next day, before the sky was fully bright, Zhou Ming woke up.

As per his routine, he suppressed the magic power in his Dantian to the deepest level and looked at his reflection in the water basin. He confirmed that he still looked like the same cowardly wretch with a sharp-mouthed, monkey-cheeked face and a gaunt frame.

Then he pushed open the door, kept his legs straight without bending his knees, and shuffled step by step toward the Kitchen.

When passing the alley, he encountered those same servants and guards from yesterday. Zhou Ming glared at them fiercely as usual, and they, as usual, either lowered their heads or turned away; none dared to laugh out loud brazenly.

Arriving at the Kitchen, he ordered Liu Sandao to go to the storehouse to collect today's ingredients as usual. Liu Sandao was efficient as always, and before long, he returned with the handymen, having collected today's items without a single error. The ledger was recorded clearly and plainly; Zhou Ming took the ledger, flipped through it, nodded at Liu Sandao, and that was that.

Then he sat on a stool in the corner of the Kitchen, holding a bowl of hot noodle soup, slurping it slowly while watching the cooks bustle about, chopping vegetables and mincing meat.

After breakfast, Zhou Ming began to dawdle again. One moment he was flipping through the ingredient ledger, the next he was checking the water level by the water vat, and then chatting with the firewood-chopping handyman about the dryness of the wood. It wasn't until Liu Sandao passed by him carrying freshly brewed rock sugar pear soup, looking at him with the gaze of an elder watching a Junior, that he gave a dry cough, stood up, and shuffled off toward the Martial Arts Training Ground.

Walking on the road, he had already prepared the draft of the story he intended to tell today in his mind.

Today, he did not intend to tell Dongmei the story of the great Female Protagonist. Although the Young Miss's remark of "treasonous" yesterday was not said harshly, he could weigh the gravity of it. Plots about a Female Protagonist ascending to the throne were entertaining, but in this world with strict hierarchies, if word got out, it would be a liability. The Young Miss could warn him once, but that didn't mean she would warn him a second time.

He decided to change his approach and tell a traditional Wuxia story: wielding a sword across the world, settling grudges with satisfaction, and good deeds being rewarded. These were all old tropes of good versus evil and good people getting good rewards, involving neither court politics nor imperial power. Even if the Young Miss came to listen again, she wouldn't be able to find any fault. Just flipping one out of his mind would be enough for Dongmei to listen to for several days.

Just as he walked into the Martial Arts Training Ground, Zhou Ming saw that Dongmei was already sitting on that small stool, holding the crumpled copy of "The False Crown's Decree." However, today she was not looking down at the storybook but was staring up in the direction of the bamboo forest, as if she were specifically waiting for him.

Seeing Zhou Ming enter, she slammed the storybook onto her knees with a "clap" and beckoned him over.

"I don't think yesterday's story was adapted well," Dongmei said right off the bat.

Zhou Ming was stunned: "What adaptation?"

"The story about The Female Protagonist ascending the throne. I thought about it all night yesterday, and I think what you said was wrong."

Zhou Ming asked, somewhat puzzled: "What's wrong with it?"

"She shouldn't have ascended the throne," Dongmei said with a very firm tone. "She should have continued being her female general, galloping on the battlefield, free and easy. What's the point of being an Emperor?"

"Sitting on that chair every day, unable to go anywhere, and having to endure the faces of those ministers."

"Didn't you tell me yesterday how that old Chancellor made things difficult for her? If she were a female general, she could have just slashed at him with her sword."

Zhou Ming opened his mouth, momentarily at a loss for where to begin his rebuttal.

He was silent for a moment, then sat down on the dirt ground opposite the small stool and cleared his throat.

"Sister Dongmei, I'm not telling that one today; I'm changing to a new one."

"Today, I'll tell a story about the desert sands, a broken sword, and a swordsman who refuses to admit defeat."