parentshiftbook Chapter 643 After-sales service, free books, and the impending turmoil
Chapter 643 After-sales service, free books, and the impending turmoil
Chapter 643 After-sales service, free books, and the impending turmoil
Jemin returned to the old town with a slight sense of regret.
The gaze that had been following him for three blocks, across two intersections, past a gas lighthouse, suddenly disappeared at the corner of Seventh Street.
Jemin didn't turn around, but his mental power detected the reason.
Two people helped him get rid of the "trouble".
They were old acquaintances to Jemin; they were the two people who had been on duty at the Psychic Association during this period.
They emerged from the dark alley, their movements clean and efficient, without making a sound.
Those who had intended to ambush Jemin didn't even have time to retaliate. There were only a few very short muffled thuds before the gazes clinging to his back snapped off one by one.
However, those unlucky guys weren't killed; it seems they were taken away.
Jemin's passive perception allows him to distinguish the disappearance and transfer of vital signs.
After dealing with the last person, the two members of the psychic association did not approach Jemin or make any unnecessary movements.
Jemin could feel their gazes linger on his back for a moment. Once they were sure he was alright and the trouble was over, they retreated into the dark alley and disappeared into the thick fog of the city.
To be honest, he couldn't help but feel a little regretful.
Jemin had already prepared to increase the number of test subjects.
Those who followed him harbored dangerous intentions, wanting to exploit him.
If handled properly, these readily available materials can not only solve problems but also provide new samples for research.
He had even mentally rehearsed the plan: how much force to use, and to what extent to control it so as not to cause too much of a commotion or attract the attention of the psychic association.
Then, two members of the psychic association suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Moreover, those two were far too efficient.
The two men acted before the other party made a move, rather than waiting for the other party to make a move before stopping and clearing the area.
Therefore, Jemin had no choice but to painfully give up these experimental subjects that were about to be obtained.
Without pausing, as if completely unaware of everything, Jemin calmly walked into the cobblestone streets of the old town and pushed open the wooden door of the old bookstore.
[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name 1110 ...
The door hinges made a familiar creaking sound.
The oil lamp was still burning, the flame flickering gently in the breeze, just as it had been when he left a few hours earlier.
Eric has simply disappeared.
"That kid—"
Jemin's mental power immediately detected what Eric was doing, and he shook his head helplessly.
He sat down in the rocking chair, the creaking of the wooden planks particularly clear in the quiet room.
"However—the psychic association is surprisingly persistent in maintaining order, and its sense of responsibility is also unexpectedly high."
No wonder that despite so many bizarre and horrific acts of cruelty, human society in this world has still been able to be maintained.
This level of responsibility is not something that can be faked, nor is it something to put on a show for anyone.
Jemin leaned back in the rocking chair and swayed gently.
He wasn't angry, just a little disappointed.
However, for those "experimental subjects," it was just a spur-of-the-moment idea for Jemin, so if they were gone, they were gone; he had no shortage of research materials.
Moreover, he will most likely have to deal with these two people from the psychic association in the future. Since they have already noticed him, it is necessary to keep a low profile and exercise restraint.
So he pretended not to see it and regretfully gave up those "experiments" that were about to be obtained.
It can also be considered a form of politeness.
"Boss? You're back?"
Eric's voice came from the direction of the stairs.
Jemin turned his head and saw the young man coming down from the second floor.
He held a roll of black electrical wire in his hand, his face bearing a mixture of fatigue and satisfaction after a long day's work.
"The wiring guys are here, and I just had them run the cables." Eric pointed to the new wiring in the corner of the ceiling. "It's exposed wiring, not just randomly chiseling into the wall. I told them this is an old house, the walls aren't very sturdy, and it would be a hassle to damage them. They just ran the cables along the corner and covered them with cable trays, and it looks alright."
Jemin looked up.
The black cable trays are neatly arranged along the junction of the ceiling and the walls, with elbows at the corners and tape wrapped around the joints. They are indeed quite well made.
"There are two light bulbs, one by the door and one on the bookshelf." Eric walked to the door and tugged on the dangling switch cord. "Look."
The light bulb turned on.
The white light was much brighter than the orange-yellow glow of the oil lamp, and the entire room was instantly illuminated.
The spines of the old books on the bookshelf shone with different colors under the light, and the corners on the floor that were usually not illuminated by the oil lamp became clearly visible.
"How is it?" Eric asked.
"good."
Jemin nodded, stood up from the rocking chair, and took out a few silver coins from his pocket and handed them over.
"But I didn't expect you to do it yourself—this is your payment, including the work you did at the shop today."
Eric glanced at the silver coins but didn't take them.
"Could I—" he hesitated for a moment, "...want something else?"
Jemin looked at him.
Eric scratched his head, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "I didn't say it was free, I just—you know, you're not a doctor, right? Do you have any medical books or anything like that? Like the basic kind, the kind I can understand. I'd like to—learn some."
His voice lowered as he spoke the last few words, as if he were saying something shameful.
Jemin paused for a moment.
"Wait a moment." He turned and walked toward the small door behind the bookshelf.
Eric knew that behind that was probably Jemin's shady clinic, so he didn't ask any more questions.
Jemin went into the small room and closed the door.
He stood in the center of the room and stretched out his hand.
Mental energy began to surge under the manipulation of alchemy, condensing at the fingertips into a precise, particle-level control force.
He casually placed his hand on an empty wooden box and used the moisture in the air and the various elements in the box to quickly synthesize paper and ink.
This process was as natural to Jemin as breathing; he could almost instinctively control the arrangement of every molecule with precision.
The papers appeared out of thin air beneath his palm, stacking one by one to form a thickness.
Next is the cover, a dark brown hard cardboard with a fine texture on the surface.
Then comes the binding, stitched, sturdy yet soft.
Finally, the text —
The ink quickly appears on the paper, line by line, page by page, with clear handwriting and neat layout.
Almost in the blink of an eye, a book appeared in Jemin's hands.
Jemin flipped through the book in his hand and confirmed that the contents were correct.
This book is based on medical knowledge from around the world.
He extracted a wealth of basic knowledge from the minds of those shady brokers and thieves, and combined it with publicly available information he had gathered in Chongqing in the past few days, integrating it into a systematic, beginner-level medical textbook.
The content covers human anatomy, physiology and pathology, diagnosis and treatment of common diseases, as well as some basic first aid techniques.
Jemin also deliberately kept the contents of the book within its bounds, ensuring that they did not exceed the current level of medical knowledge in the world.
With Jieming's current medical expertise, this basic knowledge, after being organized by him, is sufficient for someone without any formal education to master the basic knowledge required to become a qualified doctor through self-study.
I originally wanted to name this book "A Basic Guide to How Even Monkeys Can Be Doctors," but after thinking about it, I felt that the title would be too discouraging for the little guy, so Jemin regretfully gave up on the name.
After taking the book out of the small room, Jemin handed it to Eric.
"What's this?" Eric took the book and glanced at the cover.
There was no title on the cover, only a simple symbol: an open palm.
Unlike the emblem of the Psychic Association, this hand has no eyes, only five outstretched fingers.
"The medical books you wanted," Jemin said. "I specifically chose a basic one. If you study it carefully, you should be able to understand it."
Eric's hand trembled upon hearing this, and he instinctively wiped his other hand vigorously on his clothes before taking it back.
The first page was turned.
His fingers trembled slightly, and he turned the pages very gently and slowly, as if afraid of damaging something precious.
Eric's gaze swept quickly across the words and illustrations, his lips parted slightly, then closed, then parted again.
"This—this is for me?" His voice was slightly unsteady.
Jemin did not answer this obvious question.
He walked back to the rocking chair, sat down, picked up the newspaper on the table, and turned to the page he hadn't finished reading.
Eric stood under the white light of the bulb, holding the book, turning the pages one by one.
His eyes grew brighter and brighter, his breathing became more and more rapid, and finally, his eyes even turned a little red.
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, closed the book, and hugged it tightly to his chest.
"Boss," he said, his voice a little hoarse.
"Um.
""
"Thank you."
Jemin turned a page of the newspaper without looking up: "The money you get for minding the shop will cover the cost of this book."
Eric paused for a moment, then laughed.
He held the book, turned and walked towards the door, took two steps and then stopped, glancing back at Jemin.
Jemin remained in the same position, lying in the rocking chair, holding a newspaper in his hand, his face expressionless, as if he were reading an unimportant news story.
"Then I'm leaving," Eric said.
"Um.
""
The wooden door closed.
Eric's footsteps faded into the distance on the cobblestone street and then disappeared into the foggy night.
Jemin put down his newspaper and glanced at the light bulb on the ceiling.
The white light shone steadily, without flickering or noise.
He reached out and pulled the switch wire.
With a "click," the light bulb went out, and the room returned to the soft, orange-yellow glow of the oil lamp.
Jemin leaned back in the rocking chair and closed his eyes.
Overall, today's gains were considerable.
Various eerie materials, including black stone tablets, strange fragments, research manuscripts, and sealing containers —
In addition to the sealed, complete monster, that was enough for him to conduct preliminary research.
In particular, the silver-white metal box, the sealing technology of the Psychic Association, if thoroughly studied, would greatly help in the research on the supernatural itself.
Jemin opened his eyes, took the metal box from his inner world, and placed it on his lap.
His fingers traced the surface of the box, feeling the extremely subtle energy fluctuations within it.
The fluctuation was so weak that people in this world might need specialized instruments to detect it, but to him, every detail of this fluctuation was as clear as lines etched on glass.
The material of the sealing container, the structure of the runes, the method of energy locking, and the principle of suppressing the strange activity ———
These things need time to be analyzed.
He retracted the box into his inner space and closed his eyes again.
But something else was on my mind.
Among the people following him—those who had treated him like easy prey after the auction—he noticed something.
Of all the trackers, one is missing.
It was that cold, dark figure sitting in the corner during the final bidding at the auction.
Jemin could confirm that the man had indeed given him a dangerous look as he left the exhibition center.
That look wasn't just ordinary greed or curiosity; it was a clear, genuine killing intent.
Jemin had seen that look countless times on the battlefield; he couldn't possibly mistake it.
But among those who were preparing to hunt him, that person was not among them.
The gazes he sensed came from several other people, all of whom were faces he had met at the auction, some of whom had even made eye contact with him while he was bidding.
They wanted his money, the things he photographed, and the sealed monster.
Their intentions are direct, simple, and easy to understand.
But the dark figure wasn't among them.
That person clearly displayed a strong killing intent, but did not make a move.
They weren't even in the hunting party.
They either gave up or changed their plans.
But that genuine killing intent was real. After much thought, Jemin concluded that the most likely reason for him to give up was: the people from the Psychic Association.
It wasn't because they saw those two people make a move, but because they knew in advance that members of the association would be involved.
So he gave up.
If that's the case, it means the shadowy figure is very familiar with the Psychic Association's modus operandi.
They were so familiar with the process that they could predict the association would protect buyers after the auction.
This kind of person is not an ordinary black market dealer or a desperate criminal.
Jemin tapped his fingers lightly twice on the armrest of the rocking chair.
"It seems this city is gradually becoming more lively—"
Jemin was not surprised by the impending turmoil in the city.
One of the reasons he chose Chongqing was because the fate of the city fluctuated wildly.
This is the advantage of knowledge related to fate.
Jemin didn't need to go out looking for anything at all.
He just needs to wait quietly in this city; what's meant to come will come.
The flame of the oil lamp flickered gently in the breeze, casting his shadow on the mottled wall.
Jemin lay in the rocking chair, swaying slowly.
The wooden planks creaked slightly, mingling with the wind outside the window, the distant whistles of cars, and the faint, eerie whispers emanating from countless corners of the city, creating a unique nighttime rhythm belonging to the foggy city.
His eyes were closed, and a faint smile played on his lips.
Waiting is the best course of action.