153: Chapter 153 People who deliver packages at midnight are usually not good people.

Xun Bai left, his back receding slowly, every step landing on the exact same beat.

The surrounding people parted like they were witnessing a plague god on patrol, not even daring to breathe loudly.

It wasn't until the old man's back completely disappeared around the street corner that the entrance of the Supply and Marketing Cooperative came back to life.

The Crew-cut Young Man was the first to approach, his expression looking like he had just escaped death.

"Master, did you... did you just talk back to Mr. Xun?"

Jiang Feng stood up and patted the dust off his rear.

The Taiwanese novel-chasing app was really useful.

"I didn't talk back; it was just a normal exchange."

The Crew-cut Young Man's mouth opened and then closed again.

The few modern thugs nearby had already scrambled up. Their expressions toward Jiang Feng were complex—a mix of being unable to tell if this man was mentally ill or truly formidable.

The man in the leisure suit, the leader of Zhou Sui's camp, led his people away quietly.

Gu Yuanshan's Scientific Expedition Team also gradually dispersed. Before leaving, the Crew-cut Young Man looked back at Jiang Feng, hesitating to speak, before finally blurting out one sentence.

"Master, lock your door tight tonight."

Jiang Feng nodded at him.

Once everyone had scattered, Jiang Feng was the only one left at the entrance of the Supply and Marketing Cooperative.

He looked down at the broken bowl and the five coins in his hand, stuffed them into his canvas bag, and turned to walk toward his temporary base.

The so-called temporary base was an uninhabited brick house he had found after entering the town. The door was half-rotten, and the windows were covered with old newspapers. Compared to the villas in Jinghai's Longhu Mountain Villa, the conditions were about forty tiers lower.

But in Wuyin Town, a place that could shield one from the wind and rain and had a door that could be closed was already considered a luxury mansion.

Jiang Feng threw his canvas bag on the table, pulled out the kraft paper file left by the Prophet, and re-read the description of the soil of reshaping inside.

The file stated clearly: after high-temperature sintering, carbonized textures form on the surface; once the energy is exhausted, it turns into a grayish-black powder state, completely inactivated.

It was exactly the same as the pinch of substance in Xun Bai's palm.

The residue was in the old man's hands, which meant the intact soil of reshaping was somewhere beneath this town.

The question was, did Xun Bai know where the intact version was?

An even bigger question was that he said he would send someone to deliver a 'great gift' at midnight.

Jiang Feng leaned against the wall, tapping his knee with his finger.

The zi hour.

From eleven at night to one in the morning.

Delivering a great gift.

An Old Daoist Priest over two thousand years old sending someone to knock on your door in the middle of the night, saying he wants to deliver a great gift.

If this were in Jinghai, Jiang Feng would surely treat the other party as a pyramid scheme recruiter.

But in Wuyin Town, a place where even a microwave could be used as a dharma treasure for alchemy, the weight of those words was entirely different.

It was either a real gift or a death sentence.

The difference lay in whose life would be taken.

Jiang Feng put away the file and checked the doors and windows.

The door was half-rotten and would fly open with one kick; its defensive effect was approximately zero.

The windows were covered with old newspapers; the soundproofing effect was approximately negative.

Well, living in a place like this was no different from living in the middle of a main road.

He moved the only usable wooden chair to the door and sat down facing the entrance.

Then he took out the copper coins, placed them in his right palm, and closed his eyes.

Waiting for the zi hour.

There was no moon in the nights of Wuyin Town.

The sky was forever covered in a layer of grayish mist, making it impossible to distinguish day from night; one could only judge the time by their internal biological clock and the crooked cast-iron clock in the town.

When the clock struck eleven times, Jiang Feng opened his eyes.

The zi hour.

There were footsteps outside the door.

The pace was light and rhythmic, neither fast nor slow.

Jiang Feng didn't move, continuing to sit on the chair.

The footsteps stopped at the door.

Then came the knocking.

Three times, neither heavy nor light, with even intervals.

Quite polite.

To come knocking in the middle of the night and know to knock three times—no more, no less—this etiquette was much better than those telemarketers in Jinghai.

"Come in."

Jiang Feng's voice was flat.

The door was pushed open.

Two people walked in, both wearing coarse cloth shirts. Judging by their attire, they were Xun Bai's disciples.

The one on the left was taller, with a thin face and prominent cheekbones.

The one on the right was shorter, with a round face, looking honest and simple.

The thin-faced one was holding something in his arms.

A pottery jar.

It was wrapped in three layers of coarse linen and tied securely.

It looked rustic, but in a place like Wuyin Town, the more rustic the packaging, the more dangerous the contents.

The thin-faced one placed the pottery jar on the table: "Master sent this."

Jiang Feng looked at the two of them, then at the jar, and stood up from the chair.

"Your master had you come at midnight just to deliver this?"

The thin-faced one nodded.

"Master said you'll understand once you've seen it."

"Any other words?"

The thin-faced one shook his head.

The round-faced one didn't speak the entire time, but his gaze kept shifting between Jiang Feng and the pottery jar.

Jiang Feng walked to the table. He first used the copper coins in his right palm to slowly circle above the jar, not rushing to unwrap the linen.

The basic judgment he had accumulated through countless fortune-telling practices was constantly being integrated through his metaphysical insights.

After a circle, Jiang Feng perceived two layers of things.

The first layer was the pottery jar itself—no problem, just an ordinary fired pottery jar, maybe a bit old at most.

The second layer consisted of two items inside the jar.

One was flat with a stable aura.

The other was not quite right.

It wasn't malicious, but it definitely wasn't anything friendly either.

That object was shrouded in a layer of restless, churning energy fluctuations that rippled outward in circles, much like ripples on the surface of water.

Using the copper coins through the fabric of his sleeve, Jiang Feng first pushed aside the linen, not reaching in directly with his hand.

The mouth of the pottery jar was open, revealing two items inside.

A rolled-up piece of parchment, yellowed and brittle, but preserved relatively intact.

And a piece of jade.

It was about the size of a palm, its surface carved with dense runes. The material was warm and moist, showing its age.

The restless energy fluctuations on the Jade piece were emanating from those runes.

Jiang Feng used the copper coins to flick the Jade piece aside and first picked up the parchment roll to unfurl it.

It was a hand-drawn map.

The lines were crude, but the labels were clear.

The map depicted the layout of the mineral veins beneath Wuyin Town. The winding tunnels were marked with entry and exit routes. A circle was drawn at the core position, with four small characters next to it in ancient seal script: 'Find it with a precise calculation'.

Jiang Feng stared at those four characters for three seconds.

Good heavens.

This old man had given him an open-book exam.

The map was given, the route was given, but the prerequisite was that you had to use your own skills to calculate it accurately to find it.

The implication was that this wasn't charity; it was an assessment.

It was also the threshold for cooperation.

Jiang Feng folded the map and tucked it into his canvas bag.

Then he looked at the Jade piece.

The copper coins were still pressed against it, separated by the cloth.

He didn't touch it.

The thin-faced and round-faced men watched from the side, never once rushing him.

Jiang Feng looked up.

"I won't accept the Jade piece."

The thin-faced man was stunned for a moment.

"Master, this was also sent by the Master..."

"Your master tampered with this thing."

Jiang Feng's tone was very indifferent.

"Take it back and tell him I've accepted the map as a favor, but he can keep the Jade piece for himself to play with."

"Tomorrow morning, at the entrance of the cooperative, I'll talk to him face-to-face."

The thin-faced man opened his mouth but eventually closed it.

He reached out to take the Jade piece, his finger just touching the edge of the copper coins.

"Pick it up using the cloth."

Jiang Feng added.

The thin-faced man's hand recoiled. He glanced at Jiang Feng, pulled a piece of cloth from his sleeve, wrapped the Jade piece tightly, and tucked it into his robe.

The two of them left.

The door closed again.

Jiang Feng stood at the table, unfurled the Parchment map again, and slowly traced the path of the mineral veins with his finger.

The entrance was marked behind the Supply and Marketing Cooperative.

The passage extended downward about ten to fifteen meters.

The core area was directly below, slightly to the west.

He put away the map and sat back in the chair.

Fine, the old man's sincerity had arrived—at least sixty percent of it.

The remaining forty percent would have to be squeezed out face-to-face tomorrow.

As for that Jade piece...

Jiang Feng closed his eyes, quickly reviewing his perception from just now in his mind.

That layer of energy fluctuation wasn't offensive; it was more like a sensing device.

Whoever touched it, and whatever they were thinking when they touched it, would all be recorded by this thing.

Xun Bai was testing the mindset of the person taking the Jade piece—whether they were greedy, fearful, impatient, or steady.

To touch it was to fall for the trick; to not touch it was to pass the test.

Jiang Feng chose not to touch it.

This old man had turned a delivery package into a psychological test.

He hadn't lived for two thousand years for nothing.

Tomorrow, he would have to have a good talk with this old monster.