Chapter 770 - 642: After-Sales Service, Gifted Book, and the Coming Turmoil (Part 2)

Eric knew that what lay beyond should be Jeming's secret clinic, so he didn't ask further.

Jeming walked into the small room and closed the door.

He stood in the center of the room and extended his hand.

Under the manipulation of Alchemy, Spiritual Power began to surge, condensing at his fingertips into a manipulation power as precise as the particle level.

He casually placed his hand on an empty wooden box nearby, using the moisture in the air and various elements in the box to quickly synthesize paper and ink.

This process was as natural to Jeming as breathing, and he could precisely control the arrangement of every molecule almost instinctively.

Paper materialized below his palm, appearing out of nothing, stacking page by page to form thickness.

Next was the cover, a dark brown hard cardboard with fine textures on the surface.

Then came the binding, sewn with thread, solid yet supple.

Finally, the text…

The ink quickly formed on the paper, line by line, page by page, the handwriting clear, the layout neat.

In almost the blink of an eye, a book appeared in Jeming's hand.

Jeming flipped through the book in his hand to ensure the content was correct.

This book was written based on this world's medical knowledge.

He had extracted a vast amount of basic knowledge from the minds of those black market intermediaries and bandits, combined with the public information gathered over the past few days in Wudu, to compile a comprehensive introduction to medicine from scratch.

The content covered human anatomy, physiology and pathology, diagnosis and treatment of common diseases, and some basic first aid techniques.

Jeming deliberately ensured that the content of this book did not exceed the current level of medical knowledge in this world.

With Jeming's existing level of medical expertise, these basic knowledge points were organized by him, enough for someone without any formal education to self-study the basic knowledge required to become a qualified doctor.

Originally, he wanted to name the book "A Basic Guide to Becoming a Doctor, Even for Monkeys", but after thinking it over, he felt this title might be a bit too discouraging for the little fellow, so Jeming ultimately relinquished the idea with regret.

Taking the book out of the small room, Jeming handed it to Eric.

"What is this?" Eric took the book, glanced at the cover.

The cover had no title, just a simple symbol: an open hand.

Unlike the Spirit Communicator Association's emblem, this hand had no eye, just five open fingers.

"The medical book you wanted," Jeming said, "I specifically chose a basic one. If you study it carefully, you should understand it."

At these words, Eric's hand trembled, he instinctively wiped his other hand fiercely on his clothes before taking it again.

He opened to the first page.

His fingers trembled slightly, his page-turning was light and slow, as if afraid of damaging something precious.

Eric's gaze quickly scanned over the text and illustrations, his lips slightly opened, then closed, then opened again.

"This... is for me?" His voice was somewhat dazed.

Jeming did not answer the 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 page by page.

His eyes grew brighter, his breathing more rapid, until finally, his eyes even turned slightly red.

He wiped his eyes with a sleeve, closed the book, and hugged it tightly.

"Boss." He said, his voice a bit hoarse.

"Hmm."

"Thank you."

Jeming turned a page of the newspaper, not raising his head: "Consider it as payment for watching the shop."

Eric paused, then smiled.

Holding the book, he turned and walked towards the door, stopped after taking a couple of steps, and looked back at Jeming.

Jeming was still in the same posture, lying on the rocking chair, holding a newspaper, his face expressionless, as if reading an irrelevant piece of news.

"Then I'll be going." Eric said.

"Hmm."

The wooden door closed.

Eric's footsteps gradually faded away on the cobblestone path, and then vanished into the night of Wudu.

Jeming put down the newspaper and glanced at the light bulb on the ceiling.

The white light shone steadily, without flickering or noise.

He tugged at the switch chain.

With a "click", the bulb went out, and the room returned to the gentle orange-yellow glow of the oil lamp.

Jeming leaned back in the rocking chair and closed his eyes.

Overall, today's gains weren't small.

Various materials related to the bizarre, black slabs, strange fragments, research manuscripts, sealed containers…

Plus the completely sealed bizarre entity, enough for him to conduct preliminary research.

Especially that silvery-metallic box, the Spirit Communicator Association's sealing technology, if he could thoroughly study it, would also greatly aid the research of the bizarre itself.

Jeming opened his eyes, retrieved the metal box from his Inner Grotto Heaven, and placed it on his lap.

His fingers brushed over the surface of the box, feeling the layer of extremely subtle energy fluctuations.

The fluctuation was weak, so weak that in this world, people 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 seal container, the structure of the Rune, the method of energy locking, the principle of suppressing bizarre activity…

These things need time to analyze.

He returned the box to his Inner Grotto Heaven and closed his eyes again.

But his mind was still on another matter.

The people who followed him… after the auction ended, among those who regarded him as easy prey, he noticed one thing.

Among all the trackers, one person was missing.

It was the cold shadow sitting in the corner during the final bidding at the auction.

Jeming could confirm that when he left the exhibition center, that person had indeed shown a dangerous look.

That kind of gaze wasn't ordinary greed or curiosity, but explicit, genuine murderous intent.

Jeming had seen this type of gaze too many times on the battlefield to mistake it.

But among those preparing to hunt him, that person was not present.

The gazes he sensed came from several other people, all faces he'd seen at the auction, some of whom even made eye contact with him during the bidding.

They wanted his money, the items he'd bid on, and the sealed bizarre being.

Their intentions were direct, simple, and easy to understand.

But the shadow wasn't among them.

That person had shown a strong enough killing intent, yet took no action.

Not even appearing in the hunting party.

Either the person gave up, or changed plans.

But that genuine killing intent wasn't fake, and considering what could cause them to abandon the intent, Jeming thought the most likely reason was: people from the Spirit Communicator Association.

Not because he saw those two make a move, but because the person already knew the association would intervene in advance.

So the person gave up.

If this is true, then it indicates this shadow is very familiar with the Spirit Communicator Association's modus operandi.

Familiar enough to predict the association would protect buyers after the auction.

This person is not an ordinary black market merchant or outlaw.

Jeming's fingers tapped lightly twice on the armrest of the rocking chair.

"It seems this city is about to get lively…"

Jeming was not surprised about the storm that was brewing in this city.

One of the reasons he chose to settle in Wudu was because of the vigorous fluctuations of Destiny here.

This is the convenience of knowledge from the Destiny Element.

Jeming doesn't need to seek anything all over.

He just needs to quietly wait in this city, for all that is destined to come, will come.

The flame of the oil lamp flickered gently in the breeze, casting his shadow on the mottled wall.

Jeming lay in the rocking chair, swaying slowly.

The wooden board creaked softly, blending with the wind outside, the distant sound of a ferry boat, and the faint mysterious whispers from countless corners of the city, forming a unique rhythm of Wudu at night.

He kept his eyes closed, with an elusive smile at the corner of his lips.

Waiting is the best action.