Chapter 792 - 657: Cooperation

The old bookstore had an oil lamp lit.

Jeming sat in a rocking chair, holding a newspaper.

He sat exactly the same as usual: slightly reclining, feet crossed, the newspaper covering most of his face.

Upon hearing the door, he put down the newspaper, revealing his ordinary, unremarkable face that looked under thirty.

His gaze swept from Harding to Deke, then back to Harding, without any excess expression.

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

No surprise, no tension, no curiosity.

It was like seeing two ordinary customers walk in.

However, this attitude only convinced Harding of his inner suspicion.

After all, they came in uniform, and the other party showed hardly any reaction, indicating they had been expected.

Harding didn't browse the shelves.

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

Deke stood by the door, his hands hanging at his sides, relaxed but never taking his eyes off Jeming's hands.

"We're not here to read books." Harding got straight to the point.

Jeming looked at him without speaking.

"The improved genetic potion on the black market was your doing."

It was not a question, but a statement.

Harding's tone was flat, as if he was stating a fact he had verified countless times.

Jeming's expression didn't change at all.

He neither denied nor admitted it.

He just folded the newspaper neatly, placed it on the table, then leaned back in the rocking chair, hands clasped on his abdomen, calmly watching Harding.

"That shouldn't be against the law, right?" he said.

Harding was somewhat surprised by his reaction, and couldn't help scrutinizing Jeming.

His expression in the orange-yellow glow of the oil lamp seemed particularly relaxed, like chatting with an old friend.

Harding's lips twitched slightly, unsure whether he wanted to smile or frown.

"Generally speaking, genetic modification experiments without a license are illegal," he said, "but your situation is quite special."

"Special in what way?"

"Special in that your improved potions indeed have a higher success rate, and without increased side effects." Harding's tone became a bit more serious. "The association's labs have tested it, and your improvement plan is theoretically sound. Although we don't know how you did it, the result is there."

Jeming nodded, still not speaking.

Harding paused for a few seconds, as if organizing his words, then directly stated the purpose of their visit.

"The Spirit Communicator Association wishes to bring you in. Full-time, with generous benefits, all historical issues the association can help you handle... no matter which city's wanted list, the association can settle it."

Jeming's eyebrow twitched slightly, as if somewhat tempted by Harding's offer.

"If you're unwilling to be absorbed," Harding continued, "the association also hopes to collaborate with you. The specific format can be discussed, but the core content is simple: the association provides you with the required resources and protection, and you provide your technology and research results."

Jeming didn't respond immediately.

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

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

"I choose to collaborate," he said, "I need mysterious materials. Of all levels, complete or fragments work. I also need the association's internal research data... not the most confidential, but primarily the raw data on mysterious properties not open to the public."

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

"Materials and data can be provided. In exchange, you need to modify and enhance genetic potions for the association, and assist in researching some difficult tasks."

"Okay."

Jeming's answer was so straightforward that it made Deke blink slightly in surprise.

Harding watched Jeming, as if confirming he wasn't being perfunctory.

But Jeming's gaze remained steady, without any flicker.

"Then it's settled." Harding stood up, took a folded paper from the inner pocket of his uniform, and placed it on the table next to Jeming, "This is the association's cooperative agreement template. You can modify the terms, and once you've done so, just hand it over to Deke. He'll pass it on to the association's legal department."

Jeming picked up the paper, unfolded it, quickly scanned it, then refolded it, and put it in his pocket.

"Three days later," he said.

Harding nodded and turned towards the door.

Deke followed behind him, glancing back at Jeming as they reached the door.

Deke didn't expect it to go so smoothly, feeling it was more like Jeming was seeking them out rather than the other way around.

The wooden door closed.

The creaking sound of the door hinge echoed for a few seconds in the quiet room, then faded away.

Jeming sat in the rocking chair, not picking up the newspaper again.

He closed his eyes briefly, a slight proud smile appearing at the corner of his mouth: "My acting skills are indeed flawless."

As for the cooperation between both parties, it was long within Jeming's expectations, nothing to be particularly proud of.

Even the actions of the two, he had already received information through the Eye of the Micro-Light.

One could say that everything was under control.

Two months ago, he arrived in this city.

In those two months, he did a few things: researched the mysterious, collected materials, modified the Eye of the Micro-Light, captured the Shadow Thief, and synthesized the Shadow Mysterious.

But another thing he did, from the first day he entered this city, was planning.

Trading improved genetic potions with black intermediaries was not a whim, but a deliberate strategy.

He needed to attract the attention of major forces, needed to let those with power and resources in the city know that there was a researcher here who could enhance the success rate of genetic potions.

Even the improved success rate numbers were meticulously arranged by him.

Too small, no one would notice; too large, it would raise unnecessary suspicion.

Five percent was just between "worthy of attention" and "still acceptable."

He originally thought the Spirit Communicator Association would reach out sooner.

But the appearance of those black-robed cultists disrupted the rhythm, and the association was busy tracking down the mole, putting this matter on hold.

But it's not too late now.

Successfully connecting with a major force, especially the strongest official force in this Plane, means his research material supply issue is no longer a problem starting today.

The Spirit Communicator Association has accumulated over a hundred years, has an intelligence network covering the entire Plane, and a systematic collection and classification system of mysterious items.

The fragments he painstakingly scavenged from the black market, those hard-to-come-by complete mysterious samples, were just stock in the association's warehouse.

As a "collaborating researcher" recognized by the Spirit Communicator Association, as long as he could deliver enough results, he wouldn't have to worry about material supplies in the future.

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

Silver-white light surged up from below the stairs, casting his shadow long.

Now, he needed to prepare a revised proposal for the cooperation agreement.

Additionally, he needed a list of research results that could prove he was "worth collaborating with."