I, a cultivator, have ended up in the wizarding world

Chapter 658 Cooperation

Inside the secondhand bookstore, the oil lamp was lit.

Jemin sat in a rocking chair, holding a newspaper in his hand.

His posture was exactly the same as usual: leaning back slightly, legs crossed, newspaper covering most of his face.

Hearing the door open, he put down his newspaper, revealing an ordinary, unremarkable face that looked to be under thirty.

His gaze swept from Harding to Dirk, then back again, without any extra expression.

"Feel free to look around," he said, his voice neither warm nor cold.

No surprise, no tension, no curiosity.

It was just like seeing two ordinary customers walk in.

However, this attitude only confirmed Harding's suspicions.

After all, they came in uniform, and the fact that the other party didn't react much when they saw them meant that they had expected it.

Harding did not look through the bookshelf.

He walked over to the rocking chair and sat down on the stool opposite Jemin.

Dirk stood at the doorway, his hands hanging at his sides, relaxed but his eyes never leaving Jemin's hands.

"We're not here to read books," Harding said bluntly.

Jemin looked at him without saying a word.

"The genetically modified drugs on the black market were made by you."

Harding spoke in a flat tone, as if he were stating a fact he had confirmed countless times.

Jemin's expression remained unchanged.

He neither denied nor admitted it.

He simply folded the newspaper, placed it on the table, then leaned back in his rocking chair, clasped his hands over his stomach, and calmly looked at Harding. "This shouldn't break the law," he said.

Harding was somewhat surprised by his reaction and couldn't help but scrutinize Jemin more closely.

His expression appeared particularly relaxed in the orange-yellow light of the oil lamp, as if he were chatting with an old friend.

Harding's lips twitched slightly, it was hard to tell whether he wanted to laugh or frown.

"Generally speaking, unlicensed genetic modification experiments are illegal," he said, "but your case is a special one."

"What's so special about it?"

"Especially those improved drugs you created, the success rate has indeed increased, and there haven't been any additional side effects." Harding's tone became more serious. "The association's lab has conducted tests, and your improvement plan is theoretically sound. Although we don't know how you did it, the results speak for themselves."

Jemin nodded, but still didn't say anything.

Harding paused for a few seconds, as if organizing his thoughts, before stating the purpose of his trip directly.

"The Psychic Association hopes to recruit you. Full-time, with excellent benefits, and the association can handle all your historical issues... No matter which city's arrest warrant it is, the association can take care of it."

Jemin's eyebrows twitched slightly, as if he was somewhat tempted by Harding's offer.

"If you don't want to be incorporated," Harding continued, "the association also hopes to cooperate with you. Specific details can be discussed, but the core is simple: the association provides the resources and protection you need, and you provide your technology and research results."

Jemin did not answer immediately.

He leaned back in the rocking chair, his gaze shifting from Harding's face to the unlit light bulb on the ceiling.

The silence lasted for about five seconds, then he looked back at Harding.

"I choose to cooperate," he said. "I need bizarre materials. All levels, complete or fragmented, are fine. I also need the association's internal research data... not the core stuff, mainly the raw data about bizarre properties that aren't publicly available."

Harding's expression remained unchanged, but a hint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.

"Materials and data can be provided. In exchange, you will need to modify and enhance the association's gene-enhancing agents, as well as assist in certain difficult research tasks."

"Can."

Jemin's answer was so straightforward that it made Dirk pause for a moment.

Harding looked at Jemin, as if to confirm whether he was just giving a perfunctory answer.

But Jemin's gaze remained steady, without any flickering.

"Then it's settled." Harding stood up, took a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his uniform, and placed it on the table next to Jemin. "This is the association's cooperation agreement template. You can modify the terms, and then give it to Dirk. He will forward it to the association's legal department." Jemin picked up the paper, unfolded it, quickly glanced at it, then folded it again and put it in his pocket.

"Three days later," he said.

Harding nodded and turned to walk towards the door.

Dirk followed behind him, and when he reached the door, he glanced back at Jemin.

Dirk was surprised that things went so smoothly this time. It felt more like Jemin was looking for them than them.

The wooden door closed.

The creaking of the door hinges echoed in the quiet room for a few seconds before fading away.

Jemin sat in the rocking chair and did not pick up the newspaper again.

He closed his eyes briefly, a smug smile playing on his lips: "My acting was indeed flawless."

As for the cooperation between the two parties, it was already within Jemin's expectations, so there was nothing to be proud of.

He had even received information about their actions through his Eye of Light long ago.

It can be said that everything is under control.

He arrived in this city two months ago.

In two months, he did several things: research the supernatural, collect materials, modify the Glimmering Eye, capture the Shadow Thief, and synthesize the Shadow Supernatural. But there was another thing he did that began the day he arrived in the city: setting up a plan.

Trading genetically modified drugs with shady brokers was not a spur-of-the-moment decision, but a deliberate arrangement.

He needed to attract the attention of major powers and let those with power and resources in the city know that there was a researcher here who could improve the success rate of gene therapy.

Even the increased success rate figures were meticulously planned by him.

If it's too small, no one will notice; if it's too big, it will raise unnecessary alarm.

Five percent falls right between "not worth noting" and "acceptable".

He had originally thought the psychic association would contact him sooner.

But the appearance of those black-robed cult members disrupted the rhythm, and the association members were busy investigating the mole, so the matter was put on hold.

But things aren't bad now.

Having successfully established connections with a major power—the strongest official power in this plane—means that his research material supply problem will no longer be an issue from today onward.

The Psychic Association has accumulated over a century of experience, possesses an intelligence network covering the entire plane, and has a systematic system for collecting and classifying the bizarre. Those fragments he painstakingly acquired from the black market, and those rare and complete bizarre samples, are merely inventory in the Association's warehouse.

As a "cooperative researcher" recognized by the Psychic Association, as long as he can produce enough results, he will naturally not have to worry about the supply of materials.

Jemin stood up from the rocking chair, walked behind the bookshelf, and pushed open the door leading to the basement.

A silvery-white light surged up from below the stairs, casting a long shadow over him.

Now, he needs to prepare a revised version of the cooperation agreement.

In addition, he needs a list of research achievements that can prove he is "worth collaborating with".