The night was like black velvet, enveloping Dawn Mansion, a once magnificent noble villa.
By day, Jeming, under the guise of "Jack," leisurely road the streets and alleys of Golden Harbor, gathering the Aura of the Red Dust amidst the bustling crowds and issuing high-bounty Hundred Flowers Dew tasks.
When night fell, the villa beca his real battlefield and place of cultivation.
The lucrative reward for Hundred Flowers Dew, combined with the ruthless thods displayed by "Jack" in the Adventurer’s Guild, caused a trendous stir in the underworld of Golden Harbor.
So coveted the high amount of gold coins, thinking this "newcor tough guy" was rely relying on brute force.
Others couldn’t stomach the establishnt of Carl’s position and attempted to reclaim their ground.
Thus, driven by greed and hatred, people gradually chose to "test" Dawn Mansion under the cover of night.
One night, two thieves adept in stealth silently infiltrated the villa.
They moved nimbly, like ghosts in the night, trying to evade patrolling guards and potential magic traps.
However, their actions were blatantly exposed before Jeming’s eyes.
In the seemingly empty garden in their eyes, it was already filled with the surveillance system of the Eye of the Micro-Light.
Various models and types of the Eye of the Micro-Light were arranged in intersection; any slightest change in airflow, any barely perceptible life fluctuation, could not escape Jeming’s Dharma Eye.
Just as the two thieves entered the garden, attempting to find a breakthrough, Jeming snapped out of his research.
"Two rats," he snorted coldly.
To these guys who disturbed his research out of greed, he showed no rcy.
"No matter, the need for experintal subjects for the Divine Power Faith Network research fits just right; these guys delivered themselves," he said.
His figure blurred with speed, leaving only a vague shadow behind.
One thief just felt a chill behind his neck, and then the world went black; he lost consciousness.
Jeming pinched his neck, not making any sound, and dragged the unconscious thief silently into the shadows.
Only then did the other thief realize his partner’s disappearance, his hair stood on end, and instinctively, he attempted to raise an alarm, only to feel overwhelming force coming from the side.
Jeming struck him on the spine with a hand chop, causing the thief to grunt, his body wracked with pain, paralyzed, immobile.
"You’ve co at the right ti," Jeming looked down at him coldly, faint light glimring at his fingertips.
The thief’s eyes were full of terror, but his paralyzed body seed numb, unable to respond in any way.
Under the fearful gaze, Jeming read the thief’s mind, identifying their backstage manipulator.
Then, with a flick of his finger, the two thieves’ bodies flew toward the entrance to the basent, while the floor and walls smoothened automatically, leaving no trace.
In the following nights, the testers beca bolder and more varied.
So attempted to cast curses around the villa, trying to secretly weaken "Jack," but before the curse could take form, the spellcaster vanished without a trace.
Several robust n tried to forcefully break down the door, but as soon as they touched it, Jeming kicked them from behind the door, their bodies exploding into a mist of blood in mid-air.
Even an adventurer party attempted to use so substandard magic items, hoping to confuse Jeming, but these clumsy tricks rely enriched Jeming’s stockpile of test subjects slightly.
In a matter of days, Dawn Mansion beca infamous in Golden Harbor’s underworld.
Anyone who tried to approach vanished as if they were stones cast into the sea, never reappearing, turning the place into a veritable man-eating lair.
The previously rampant thugs tucked away their claws, while adventurers tempted by the handso bounty cald down.
The entire Golden Harbor’s nights, paradoxically, beca peaceful due to that villa.
Eventually, the deadly reputation attracted the real "in-charge folks."
On a sunny morning, a team of well-armored guards surrounded a rchant with a fat head and big ears, in silk robes, cautiously stopping in front of Dawn Mansion.
The rchant, Laine, was a significant figure in Golden Harbor’s underground forces and was Carl the Iron Hamr’s boss.
He represented the interests of most local nobles in Golden Harbor, making him an excellent interlocutor.
Behind him, two guards dragged the "Iron Hamr" Carl, who looked like a dead dog.
Carl, with his leg intentionally broken, was trembling with fear and humiliation on his face, showing signs of recent injuries—clearly indicating a substantial lesson received.
"Lord Jack!" Laine stopped three ters before the door, his face full of the most humble smile.
He bowed respectfully, with a slight tremor in his voice, "I’m Laine, coming specially with this unseeing fool to apologize to you!"
He kicked Carl hard, making his already pale face more twisted, forced him to kneel at Jeming’s feet. "This idiot dared to offend your might! He deserves a thousand deaths! My lord, please quell your anger, dispose of him as you see fit!"
Laine’s voice was stern, yet he was trying his best to show deference to Jeming.
Carl lay on the ground in pain, his body trembling incessantly, not daring to utter a single word.
He knew whether he could survive today depended entirely on the mood of the young man before him.
Jeming stood under the villa’s porch, the sunlight casting shadows behind him, making his expression sowhat indistinct.
He quietly observed the scene before him, sensing the fear in Laine’s voice and Carl’s despair.
He understood clearly that this was already a concession from the local nobles of Golden Harbor.
Having Laine co to apologize both demonstrated the nobles’ sincerity and allowed them to maintain their dignity. Indirectly, it signaled that the nobles had accepted Jeming, an external "force", entering their domain.
The ssage from the local nobles was simple: from now on, live and let live.
If it were "Jeming", he would surely give these natives a good lesson, letting them understand the notion of "power is authority".
However, since he was currently playing the role of "Jack", he wouldn’t completely tear the facade.
Moreover, for Jeming at this mont, a relatively stable Golden Harbor aligned more with his interests.
In fact, the current situation was entirely orchestrated by Jeming, who had been plotting since he first entered the city.
Although he never explicitly stated it, he intentionally displayed the image of himself as a certain noble’s Black Gloves.
Thus, compared to other adventurers, Jeming was certainly subject to more probing.
But correspondingly, once the other party confird Jeming’s abilities, they would naturally withdraw, even considering him one of their own.
This was considered one of the "unspoken rules" among nobles.
After all, the implied aning of not challenging a strong dragon on their own turf is for the natives not to provoke the strong dragon, with the premise that the newcor is indeed a "strong dragon", not a "mud eel".
And after so many probes, everyone confird each other’s "ecological niche", and due to the nobles’ "dignity", naturally would not tear the facade.
"I accept your apology." Jeming’s voice was calm and indifferent, not a trace of emotion, "As for this guy, don’t let him appear in front of again."
Hearing this, Laine breathed a long sigh of relief, as if a burden had been lifted.
He knew that this mysterious and powerful "Lord Jack" agreed to accept their atonent, which ant the matter was settled here.
The other party gained the "right to not be disturbed" moving forward, and they maintained their dignity.
Though Carl was in a miserable state, at least his life was preserved.
"Thank you, my lord! Thank you for your rcy, my lord!" Laine nodded and bowed repeatedly, and then signaled to his subordinates. The two guards imdiately lifted Carl and quickly retreated from "Dawn Mansion’s" domain.
From this mont on, the underground forces of Golden Harbor knew that both "Dawn Mansion" and its master "Jack" were not to be provoked.
...
...
Inside "Dawn Mansion", ever since gaining the right to not be disturbed, except for going out every few days to gather Hundred Flowers Dew, Jeming barely stepped outside, imrsed in his world of research.
Unknowingly, two months had passed since he arrived at Golden Harbor.
The spacious basent, expanded through spatial manipulation, had been transford into a temporary laboratory, with various rune carving knives, alchemy vessels, and detection equipnt neatly arranged.
"Sigh... relying solely on biological experints to research the Divine Power Faith Network is simply not enough!"
In front of the operating table, Jeming, with disheveled hair, lifted his head and couldn’t help but groan to the heavens.
"I really want to capture a Divine Spirit for research... Damn it! Had I known this, I would have been gentler with that Blood Angel back then."
After studying the Divine Power Faith Network system for two months, Jeming increasingly understood why wizards were so fond of "Divine Spirits".
These entities were practically the natural treasures of the Wizard World.
It could be said that every Divine Spirit embodied the essence of the local plane’s rules, with the value of these spirits comprising nearly 80% of the overall value of the plane.
Just like the Divine Power Faith Network displayed by this plane’s divine spirits, even with fairly rudintary research equipnt and insufficient research materials...
Despite various disadvantages, even within just two months, Jeming felt he had reaped significant rewards.
The entire research on the Divine Power Faith Network could be broken down into nurous subtopics, such as the energy transmission system, information transmission system, energy transformation system, and so on.
"Even though I’ve only scratched the surface of the energy transmission system, just applying this research practically on myself should enhance the Great Light Appearance’s intensity by over 30%... Damn! I’m increasingly eager to capture a Divine Spirit for study!"
Even within such a crude environnt, the yield had been so remarkable that Jeming hesitated to imagine the gains should a genuine Divine Spirit lie upon his operating table.
"Sigh... raspberry, raspberry, with my current strength, it’s better to stop daydreaming."
After a mont lost in his fantasies, Jeming ultimately had to return to reality.
Sighing, he waved his hand to clear the cluttered experintal table in front of him and staggered out of the basent.
User Comments
0 comments from readers