Back at Wuying Hall, Zhou Ming briefly handed over the defenses of the Imperial Palace and the Prefectural Governors Mansion, the daily surveillance of Emperor Yongchang, and the house arrest of Grand Duke Su and a group of veteran officials to Dongmei, item by item.

When Dongmei heard he was going on a long journey, her mouth opened slightly as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just tossed a short sword to Zhou Ming.

With her head held high, her tone remained arrogant: "If you die out there, no one will collect your corpse, so keep your life safe."

After speaking, she turned and left, but she turned so quickly that she almost tore down the door curtain.

Early the next morning, Zhou Ming packed a knapsack. Inside were a few changes of clothes and some silver.

He rode a Northern Border Army warhorse he had led out of the Imperial Guard stables and headed north along the official road.

After walking for several days, at the beginning, Zhou Ming still held the reins and swayed slowly, looking at the scenery along the way with great interest.

The world of the Northern Border was more open than Yuyang Commandery, and on both sides of the official road were endless meadows.

The withered yellow pasture surged like waves in the north wind, and occasionally one could see herds of wild horses galloping across the horizon, the dust raised by their hooves looking like a golden Dragon in the sunlight.

But after watching for two or three days, the meadows were still meadows, the wild horses were still wild horses, and even the clouds in the sky were too lazy to change shape.

Zhou Ming's interest was like the cake in his dry ration bag; the more he chewed, the less flavor it had.

When he arrived at Zhenbei City, the defending general recognized him.

He had previously followed the Young Miss here to reorganize the Northern Border Army.

Later, he was locked in a side room of the Commanders Residence for a whole day and night; the defending general of Zhenbei City had heard a little about these things.

The general did not ask much when he saw him, and after sending someone to notify the Northern Border commander Fan Jianjun, he let him pass.

Zhou Ming handed the warhorse to the guards for safekeeping, and carrying only that small knapsack, he walked on foot out of the Northern Border defense line.

North of Zhenbei City was the buffer zone between Great Xia and Great Yuan.

There were no farmlands, no villages, only large stretches of abandoned pastures and mounds pitted by wind erosion.

Zhou Ming walked unsteadily on the soft grass for half a day, then released his Divine Sense to scan the area.

The nearest scouts were dozens of miles away, squatting in a dried-up riverbed chewing on dry rations.

Zhou Ming confirmed that no one was paying attention, then rose directly into the air, his whole body turning into a barely perceptible stream of light, skimming along the edge of the clouds as he sped north.

The sentries on the border of Great Yuan were boredly leaning on the battlements counting clouds, the scabbards of the sabers worn by the patrolling cavalry were polished oily bright, and the smoke from the cooking fires in the camp rose and dissipated.

Everything looked exceptionally calm.

Zhou Ming continued to fly north, but what he saw along the way surprised him slightly.

The prefectural cities and counties of Great Yuan were actually a scene of peace and prosperity.

After the evening drum sounded and the lanterns were lit, pedestrians were coming and going in the streets, the restaurants and teahouses were bustling, and the sound of string and bamboo instruments faintly reached high into the sky.

The tranquility of this Dynasty and the country in the south that was undergoing drastic changes seemed to exist in two completely different timelines.

Zhou Ming circled over the hinterland of Great Yuan for half the night, his Divine Sense sifting through the bustling land beneath his feet.

He only sensed the Causal Chain of the Dushi Sutra deep in the residences of a few scattered noble families.

The quantity was very small, but each root was thick, clearly indicating that those powerful families who had mastered more resources and confidence were cautiously exploring this power in secret.

At midnight, Zhou Ming descended outside a city called Dachuan.

This city leaned against the Wuding River, with convenient water transport, and there were many schools in the city, with a strong literary atmosphere.

Zhou Ming used the cover of night to land silently in the backyard of a school.

His Divine Sense scanned the front hall; the school owner was holding an oil lamp and reading in the study.

Zhou Ming observed this person's appearance; he looked shrewd but his eyes were clear and upright, not like a treacherous person.

Zhou Ming took a Dushi Sutra and a neat stack of over a thousand taels of silver notes from his knapsack, bent down, and gently placed the silver notes and the scripture together at the door of the study.

Then he tapped on the door three times with his fingers, and his whole body rose silently to the roof.

Hearing someone knocking, the school owner put down his book, put on an outer robe, carried the oil lamp, and carefully opened the door to poke his head out.

Just as he hadn't seen who was outside, he stepped on the books and silver notes on the ground, slipped, and almost stumbled.

Just as he was lowering his head to see what he had stepped on, an unhurried voice came down from the roof.

"I will give you three days to copy a thousand copies of this book for me. I will come to get them in three days."

The owner suddenly raised his head and looked at the source of the voice, but the roof was already empty, with only a few withered leaves blown by the wind swirling onto the tiles.

He bent down to pick up the things on the ground and flipped through them by the light of the oil lamp.

A not-so-thick book with the words "Dushi Sutra" written on the cover, and a stack of paper money, each of which was a large denomination.

He originally thought it was some Martial Forest expert coming to extort him, but now that he saw there was money to be made, his face immediately brightened.

It was just copying books; copying a thousand books for a thousand taels of silver, even using the best paper and ink wouldn't cost half of it, and the rest would be pure profit.

He hurriedly opened the book and read it roughly to confirm that it was nothing forbidden, and only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Zhou Ming used his Divine Sense to observe the expression on the owner's face as if he had found a treasure, knowing that the matter was settled.

He found an inconspicuous inn in Dachuan City, asked for a room facing the street, brewed a pot of coarse tea, leaned by the window, and continued to pay attention to the bookstore's movements with his Divine Sense.

This owner was truly a talent; early the next morning he recruited dozens of poor scholars into the school to start copying books.

With long tables laid out and all the pens, inks, papers, and inkstones ready, they copied busily and enthusiastically.

In just two days, the target of one thousand copies was completed, but he did not tell people to stop; instead, he recruited a few more who wrote well to continue copying.

This small businessman who would not get up early without profit obviously had some long-term thoughts, wanting to hoard more goods for other uses.

On the night of the third day, the agreed time arrived.

The owner had been waiting in the courtyard early, with the new books copied over the past few days neatly stacked beside him, a small mountain-like pile exuding the fresh scent of ink.

Zhou Ming landed silently on the roof and casually cast a mist spell, and thin mist flowed down along the eaves.

It enveloped Zhou Ming's figure in a hazy gray-white.

Standing in the mist, Zhou Ming asked knowingly: "Three days have passed, where are the books I wanted?"

Hearing the voice, the owner hurriedly raised his head and bowed respectfully to the mist on the roof that could not be seen clearly, feeling amazed and uncertain:

"Great Hero, I have copied enough! Look, they are all copied according to your original, with neat handwriting and not a single word wrong."

He rubbed his hands, his face full of the shrewd smile peculiar to businessmen, and changed the subject.

"And I also asked people to copy five hundred more... Great Hero, look... look... this..."

Zhou Ming naturally knew what he meant, and was too lazy to waste words with him, so he directly took out another five hundred taels of silver notes from his bosom and threw them down.

The silver notes floated down to the owner's feet, and Zhou Ming immediately raised his hand and summoned his magical power.

More than 1,500 books were supported by invisible palms and floated up from the ground, hanging neatly beside Zhou Ming.