Chapter 769 - 642: After-Sales, Free Books, and the Coming Storm

Jeming returned to the old town, feeling slightly regretful.

The gaze behind him had followed him for three streets, crossed two intersections, passed by a gas lamppost, and suddenly disappeared at the corner of Seventh Street.

Jeming didn't look back, but his Spiritual Power caught the reason.

Two people had helped him resolve the "trouble."

They were familiar faces to Jeming, the two who had been on duty at the Spirit Communicator Association lately.

They emerged from a dark alleyway, swift and silent, without any unnecessary noise.

Those who intended to ambush Jeming didn't even have time to retaliate, just a few short muffled sounds, and the gazes sticking to his back snapped one by one.

However, those unfortunate ones were not killed, it seemed they were taken away.

Jeming's passive perception could distinguish the disappearance and movement of life signs.

After dealing with the last person, the two from the Spirit Communication Association didn't approach Jeming, nor did they make any unnecessary moves.

Jeming could feel their gaze linger on his back for a moment, and after confirming he was fine and the trouble was cleared, they retreated into the dark alley and vanished into Wudu's dense fog.

Honestly, he felt a bit regretful.

Jeming had been prepared to increase his experimental specimens.

Those following him harbored dangerous intentions, wanting to treat him like easy prey.

This kind of material delivered right to the door, if handled properly, could solve trouble while providing new samples for research.

He had even gone through the action plan in his mind: how much force to use, how to control the situation, without causing too much commotion, and avoiding the Spirit Communicator Association's attention.

Then those two from the Spirit Communication Association unexpectedly intervened.

Moreover, their methods were excessively swift.

They acted before the other side could make a move, not waiting until after the attack to stop and clean up.

So Jeming had to reluctantly give up these specimens about to fall into his hands.

Jeming's footsteps didn't pause in the slightest; he walked into the cobbled street of the old town as though he hadn't noticed any of this, and pushed open the wooden door of the old bookstore.

The familiar creak of the door hinge sounded.

The oil lamp was still lit, its flame gently dancing in the breeze, exactly the same as when he left a few hours ago.

Only Eric was nowhere to be seen.

"That kid..."

Jeming's Spiritual Power immediately detected what Eric was doing and shook his head in resignation.

He sat down in the rocking chair, the creak of wood distinctly audible in the quiet room.

"However... the Spirit Communication Association's commitment to maintaining order is surprisingly firm; their sense of responsibility unexpectedly high. No wonder they can keep human society intact despite numerous strange horrors."

This level of responsibility isn't feigned, nor is it for show.

Jeming leaned back in the rocking chair, giving it a gentle rock.

He wasn't angered, just felt a bit regretful.

As for those "specimens," Jeming had only taken an impromptu interest; losing them was no big deal, as his research materials weren't lacking.

Moreover, he is likely to interact with these two from the Spirit Communication Association in the future, and since they've noticed him, appropriate low profile and restraint are necessary.

So, he pretended not to see, regretfully abandoning the "specimens" he was about to acquire.

That could also be considered a courtesy.

"Boss? You're back?"

Eric's voice came from the direction of the stairs.

Jeming turned around, seeing the young man coming down from the second floor.

Holding a coil of black electrical wire, with a look of mixed tiredness and satisfaction after a day of busyness.

"The guy for the wiring came, I just had them put the wires in place." Eric pointed to the new line in the corner of the ceiling, "It's surface-mounted, no messy chiseling of the walls. I told them this house is old, the walls aren't sturdy, if they damage them it's trouble. So they laid the line along the corners, covered it with a wire channel, it looks okay."

Jeming looked up.

Black wire channels were neatly arranged along the junction of the ceiling and the walls, corner pieces used at turns, joints wrapped with tape, indeed done quite meticulously.

"There are two bulbs installed, one by the door, one above the bookshelf." Eric walked to the door, and pulled the hanging switch wire, "Look."

The bulb lit up.

The white light was much brighter than the oil lamp's warm orange glow, illuminating the room instantly.

The old book spines on the shelves glistened in various hues under the light, the corners of the floor usually missed by the oil lamp now clearly visible.

"How's this?" Eric asked.

"Not bad."

Jeming nodded, stood up from the rocking chair, and took out a few Silver Coins from his pocket to hand over.

"But I didn't expect you to do it yourself... With today's shopkeeping job, this is your reward."

Eric glanced at the Silver Coins but didn't take them.

"Can I possibly..." He hesitated, "ask for something else?"

Jeming looked at him.

Eric scratched his head, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face: "I don't mean not taking the money, I'm just… You know, you're not... I mean a doctor, right. Do you happen to have any medical books or something? The kind that's basic and understandable. I want to... learn a bit."

He lowered his voice to the last few words, as if discussing something shameful.

Jeming paused in thought.

"Wait a moment." He turned and walked towards the small door behind the bookshelf.