147: Chapter 147 A Chaotic Dance of Demons

The Pre-Qin auntie's voice continued to rise.

"If you talk back to me again, see if I don't peel that green skin off you and use it as a rag!"

The flush on the young man's face had already spread from his cheeks to his earlobes.

"You, you're just being barbarically feudal!"

"Barbaric? I've lived long enough to have seen plenty of barbaric people. With those tender arms and legs of yours, it's not your turn to be accusing me of being barbaric!"

Chives were scattered all over the ground.

Jiang Feng leaned against a streetlamp by the road, watching the commotion for about a dozen seconds.

It had quite a lively, mundane atmosphere.

That is, if one ignored the fact that their attire and way of speaking spanned a time dimension of over two thousand years.

He intended to move closer to get a better look.

He hadn't even taken two steps.

A string in his brain was pulled.

A sharp pain.

A sharp pain, ten times worse than a migraine, split open from the back of his head, spread along the seams of his skull, and within three seconds, flooded his entire brain.

The Eye of Truth was sounding an alarm.

It wasn't a normal alarm.

In Jiang Feng's vision, the world changed.

The Pre-Qin auntie was covered from her hair bun to her heels in a dense layer of red veins.

On the young man, the same red veins.

Everything, the entire town, everything was crawling with red veins.

The amount of information was overwhelming.

Jiang Feng braced one hand against the nearby streetlamp, his center of gravity shifting two inches to the right.

The lesion from the brain tumor was in the back of his head, and the massive amount of false signals received by the Eye of Truth were all pouring in from that direction.

Two forces were fighting in the same area; the cancer cells had made a nest there, and the system's detection data was dumping there too, resulting in that spot being squeezed to the point of shattering.

It hurt—the kind of pain of being unexpectedly poked in the rear by a close friend.

Jiang Feng bent over, resting his right elbow on his knee, holding the back of his head with his left hand.

Everything indicated that this town was fake.

It was all a lie.

The auntie and the young man across the street were still arguing.

The sound reached his ears, every syllable carrying a tag of falsehood, and every tag sparked in his brain.

Activating the Eye of Truth in this town was equivalent to standing in the middle of a city full of lies, holding a lie detector with maxed-out sensitivity, and scanning in all directions at once.

His brain would fry.

Jiang Feng clenched his teeth.

His cheeks bulged with hard muscle, and his molars ground together with a creaking sound.

He closed his eyes.

The system interface appeared in his mind.

Skill list, Eye of Truth (Passive).

Jiang Feng did not hesitate.

He found the switch in his mind and flipped it to off.

The sharp pain receded.

It was like someone had pulled a live steel wire out of his head; the buzzing tremors faded rapidly, returning to calm after five seconds.

Jiang Feng straightened up and wiped the cold sweat that had been forced out on his forehead.

The back of his hand was wet, his back even wetter.

He leaned back against the streetlamp, his head resting against the cast iron, eyes rolled up, looking at the forever gray sky.

The skill was off.

In this town, the Eye of Truth cannot be used.

Using it was just asking for death.

Damn it, he had arrived in a place where the entire town was fake, yet the only skill that could distinguish truth from falsehood couldn't be used.

What great luck.

Jiang Feng greeted the system's ancestors up to the eighteenth generation in his heart, then evened out his breathing.

After the sharp pain disappeared, he discovered something strange.

There was a blank spot in his brain.

It wasn't a hollow kind of emptiness; rather, the sensory area originally occupied by the Eye of Truth had automatically been filled with something else after the skill was turned off.

It was very faint.

You knew it was there, but couldn't explain where it came from.

Jiang Feng tried casting his gaze toward the Pre-Qin auntie across the street who was still cursing.

There were no red veins, no sharp pain.

However, he could sense a mass of something floating above the auntie's head.

An aura between gray and black.

This aura transmitted a very clear signal.

Stingy.

This auntie was cheap.

Jiang Feng shifted his gaze to the young man in the Lenin suit.

A mass of aura was also floating above the young man's head, yellowish-green in color, and looser in texture than the auntie's.

The signal it transmitted was: Cowardly.

Tough words, but terrified inside.

Wasn't this the ability he could only possess briefly during system missions?

The system interface flashed.

A few lines of small text appeared.

"Hint: Because the host has long borrowed the system for metaphysical practice, your own metaphysical intuition has begun to awaken. Gained daily passive perception of metaphysical insights."

"Metaphysical Insight: The host can apply what you have learned in past and future fortune-telling experiences, and possess your own signature skills even in a daily state."

"Note: Going from a charlatan to a true master of fortune-telling only requires a tiny bit of daily accumulation and a tiny bit of comprehension ability!"

That was enough.

This meant that even when not on a mission, he had small means to contend with this fake world.

At least he could tell who was easy to provoke and who wasn't, who he could deal with, and who he should avoid.

Jiang Feng brushed the dust off his clothes.

The war of words between the auntie and the young man had extended from the quality of the chives to the professional ethics of their ancestors; there was no sign of it ending anytime soon.

Jiang Feng didn't look at them anymore.

He scanned the surrounding streets.

The stone road extended southward, and the buildings on both sides became increasingly dense.

A few buildings had lights on, and occasionally, he could see shadows moving behind the windows.

Some were wearing modern T-shirts. Some were wearing 1970s work clothes. There were even two wrapped in ancient robes.

A dance of demons.

But at least, he now had a pair of eyes that could distinguish the quality among this motley crew.

Jiang Feng adjusted the canvas bag on his shoulder and started walking, intending to follow the main road deeper into the town.

He hadn't walked ten steps.

The alley entrance ahead was blocked by people.

A group of people came from the left.

Wearing uniform green coats with the top button fastened, marching in orderly steps, about seven or eight people, arranged in two columns—a miniature squad.

People also came from the right.

Four or five of them, dressed much more normally in hoodies, windbreakers, and sneakers.

Everyone's eyes were darting around, holding all sorts of miscellaneous items in their hands.

The two groups blocked the alley entrance from both directions simultaneously.

The way they looked at Jiang Feng was exactly like looking at a piece of braised pork just served on the table.