Chapter 119: A Deal in the Darkness -3

The bartender, whose face was slightly pale from malnutrition, pulled out paper and a pen, handed them to Luo Bin, and pointed to a small side room:
“Write it in there yourself. If you don’t want to write, you can hire one of our people to write it for you—one page of paper costs an extra day of lifespan.”
Luo Bin broke out in a mental sweat. He actually had to write out his intel himself to sell it.
“I’ll hire someone to write it. I’m afraid my handwriting might get out, and then you’d frame it and sell it off someday.”
The bartender grinned and handed Luo Bin a complimentary beer.
This thrilled Luo Bin. He ducked into the small room with his drink, and a young inn employee standing inside the room took the pen from the bartender and followed him in.
After Luo Bin entered the room, two people near a card table nearby shot sideways glances at the door he’d gone through. They smirked, then turned and left.
Inside the small room.
“Hey there, my friend, is your liquor brewed in-house?”
“Nope,” the employee who came in said on reflex.
Luo Bin took a seat in the chair across from the small table, drinking as he went:
“What kind of person is your boss, setting up an intel trade here? That’s really impressive.”
“Him? Well, he’s got a few partners… with…”
The young man who took the pen to help write the intelligence suddenly realized, his eyes fixed on the pen tip touching the paper… who on earth was questioning whom.
“Don’t pull any tricks,” the young man looked up angrily.
“Alright, alright, I was just asking casually.”
Luo Bin feigned innocence, looking around the room with an air of detachment, taking a sip of his beer without missing a beat.
A few minutes later, the young man furrowed his brow and walked out clutching a piece of paper, handing it to the bartender.
“That guy said this is partial intelligence worth five hundred years of time sequence. The complete intel costs fifteen hundred years of extra lifespan.”
“Fifteen hundred years—who does he think he is?”
“It’s still the cheapest option.”
The bartender glanced at the scrawled, dog-like handwriting on the paper.
“Recording so much useless drivel.” He was just finishing his remark before his pupils contracted. “Wait. Ac, ability—Nightmare? Co-symbiotic type at that!”
The man’s presence turned more somber, with a red model shimmering beneath his chest.
[True gold fears not the fire.]
Crimson threads flickered and then shot toward his hands; the paper in his hands burst into flames like roaring fire.
His eyes were fixed like iron on the words, “psi-type co-symbiotic nightmare”.
Under such scorching flames, not those particular words alone, not a single character on the paper was burnt away.
[Fidelity unmatched, one hundred percent. It’s unsettling us.]
“So it was true.”
The bartender’s gaze turned solemn as he gave one meaningful look toward the proxy writer across the way:
“Don’t tell anyone about tonight’s business—it’s best we don’t mess with that guy from the sixty-year cycle room. Also, give him all five hundred years of temporal order.”
“Alright, then are we still selling this intel?”
“Heh, we still have to sell it, but can’t spread it around. Hmm, let’s give a copy to the big boss first.”
The bartender looked toward the small room as Luo Bin—a figure spacious of heart and broad of body—lifted the curtain and stepped out.
Seeing the bartender’s gaze tinted with reverent respect, Luo Bin smiled dryly:
“Got the verdict on its authenticity?”
“It’s real. Sir, follow our young fellow here—temporal order will be provided by him. Besides, we offer rooms for rest here at a cost of ‘one month’ per night, including a delicious midnight snack.”
“A fine place indeed.” Luo Bin walked over and set his empty glass on the wooden tabletop. “By the way, keep an eye out for info on an A-grade junction zone—a mountain range where terrain convergence has already occurred.”
“We’ll watch for it. But if you posted the mission using extra lifespan, it’d speed things up.”
“Heh, I’m no landlord.”
After stepping out to rejoin Yang Zicang, Luo Bin wrapped himself in his coat and complained: “Whoa—he only gave you five hundred years for that info. That bastard posing as the Empyrean Lord is definitely up to no good.”
“What’s the final bounty from him, then—how many years?”
“The bounty is that piece-of-junk train, not even fit to shine the shoes of your little Ma Chao. A so-called ‘Barrens-Carriage’—and I thought it was something grand.”
Luo Bin mused to himself—if only he could get his hands on that bronze carriage; he could go anywhere without ever walking, and have an obedient servant thrown in for free.
The key is that it can be used day and night, except it can’t turn invisible.
Yang Zicang said, “It’s said there’s a small space inside the desolate chariot.”
“Oh? I haven’t heard of that.” Luo Bin rubbed his hands together and continued, “He’s even taking out the chariot that guards the house. This feels like he’s gearing up to make a run for it. Could he be gathering enough years to leave this place?”
“Perhaps,” Yang Zicang nodded. “If he’s selling the chariot before leaving, it seems the original owner of the desolate chariot isn’t him.”
The two walked deep into the wilderness. In front of Yang Zicang, the outline of a subway ghost train rapidly materialized.
Seeing how obediently the “Ma Chao mount,” which called itself “Ma Chao,” cooperated with the young man beside him, Luo Bin felt envious.
“Logically speaking, even with you wearing that psychic uniform, it could make someone else its driver. But this guy doesn’t show the slightest intention of running away.”
{Are you expecting me to leave the new train conductor?}
The train turned its head. Its headlights, shaped like eyes, glared with round halos, casting a hazy light over the phantom-like silhouette.
Luo Bin pointed his thumb at the train and said to the young man, “Look at that talk. I can’t even catch up horse—wait, never mind.”
Just as the two stepped forward and the train was about to turn invisible, it suddenly lunged forward, rocketing towards the distance at high speed. Yang Zicang grabbed the threshold with one hand and immediately dragged Luo Bin back with the other.
{Danger!}
[Dispatch, trajectory!]
A sudden red phantom dagger whizzed past the two of them by a hair’s breadth. Yang Zicang felt a chill on his chest; his clothes had been slashed with a knife mark.
At the spot where they had just stood, a figure remained, turning to look in the direction he had disappeared.
“What happened?”
Luo Bin, having climbed aboard the train, stood up.
The train said:
{There’s an attack targeting you.}
Yang Zicang closed his eyes. Through the sensing images transmitted by the train, he vaguely saw that figure; the red light on the man’s hand had vanished.
“Go back.”
The train swooshed through the wind, charging back to its original position.
The man saw the gale approaching, and a strange glint flashed in his eyes as the blade wrapped in red light shot out.
But just then, Boom!
While the man was focused on what was in front of him, a silver spear suddenly emerged from behind him, aimed straight at his heart, pierced through, and stabbed into the ground.
[I’ve offset 20,000N.]
The figure vanished from the spot.
“Is it invisibility?”
Luo Bin looked admirably at the place where the figure had disappeared.
In the fierce night wind, Yang Zicang squinted, slowly retracting the silver spear into the Gravitational Arc Light, while the train dissolved into a phantom and vanished.
About ten minutes later, a human figure suddenly tumbled out from an earthen hollow on a nearby small slope; he coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood.
From a pouch at his waist, he pulled out an Ability Sphere that resembled a small green orange. After using it, the sphere shimmered and manifested into bandages, which he labored to wrap around his chest.
A jagged line shot out, and the phantom of the Wilderness Lord materialized at the other end.
{Seer Shadow, I heard that Jia Ziqing appeared near the Lone Frequencies Inn during the last sexagenarian cycle—mere “difference” away. Did you succeed?}
“Cough. Just a little short. The moment I appeared… he spotted me… and made a countermove. That guy is a highly alert expert.”
The medicinal effect of the bandages continuously took hold. Seer Shadow felt that fine, bloody strands like spider silk coated the wound. His punctured lung finally stirred and breathed again, though his body grew even weaker.
{Really? Damn it. What a fucking shame.}
The Wilderness Lord lamented without end.
{If only you could touch people while invisible too, eh? Oh, you’re severely hurt—need a hand?}
“Can’t be helped. I can’t move too fast either. Cough, cough. Besides, Jia Ziqing has this silver spear that can appear instantly—terrifying. I almost died.”
No sooner had he spoken than his hair suddenly stood on end. He vanished from the spot instantly.
Swoosh!
A spear wreathed in a red phantom descended vertically from above.
With a bang, dust burst upward from the ground.
At the same time, the White Shadow Thought-Dragon, trailing red phantoms, charged over and looked left and right in confusion—the figure that had been right there had vanished once more.
The breeze fell silent.
Holding his breath for several seconds, the Desolate Lord on the other end of the Mental Link found his throat barely moving as he watched everything unfold through Mingyin’s perspective.
No wonder this person had wiped out his cargo fleet.
That single spear strike had completely shattered any thoughts of revenge he harbored, especially since there was also that train capable of turning invisible.
At this moment, only fear remained within him.
Mingyin, in fact, was actually the captain of his last cargo unit; the two typically kept their relationship hidden and triggered key assassination missions through underground commissions.
Mingyin hadn’t dodged the spear’s attack just now simply because he had switched to invisibility and disregarded the damage.
{That old beast… He can be [invisible] just like you… Even with that horrifying giant psychic worm. Damned terrifying… Hey, your injuries are severe, can you hold on?}
The Desolate Lord had always believed Mingyin to be a legendary Nen-ability model, possessing a special Nen ability that allows Nen constructs to remain invisible.
Yet, even now, as another Nen ability wielder, the Dreamfiend couldn’t locate him—causing the Desolate Lord to hold Mingyin’s abilities in even higher regard.
Not even that old hand could detect Mingyin’s invisibility; thank goodness for that.
True invisibility really conceals one from every aspect.
[Still, just a fraction of a second later, and I’d be dead for sure.]
Mingyin’s nerves were stretched taut; right now, he didn’t dare make even a slight move with a single finger.
He stared at the small “black hole” swirling at the junction of the spear tip and shaft, his expression growing extremely grim. Jia Zijian was truly terrifying—anyone else would have been pinned and killed by that strike!
Wind stirred the airflow, sweeping through his body.
After waiting a minute or two and calming his breaths, Ming Ying held his breath and crept back a few steps from the dissipating Nian dragon, his eyes darting left and right, scrutinizing every detail of the swaying grass and shifting sand, searching for any subtle anomaly amidst it all.
Silence reigned over the deserted wilderness.
One minute, two minutes…
Everything on the barren plain was shrouded in deep, murky light.
The outlines of a few low-lying hills were vague and indistinct; the wind was the only sound here, weaving through rocks and sand, rustling the sparse, dry grass into a faint whisper.
Five minutes passed, ten minutes passed…
An hour passed…
After a long while, as morning light began to break dimly in the sky, a faint tremor stirred in the still air, and a breeze drifted away into the distance.
Much later, as the temperature of the Frequency-Lost Region fully began to rise, a faint, fast-moving figure appeared hundreds of meters away.
The night-long standoff had ended.
It was only after repeatedly confirming that Jia Zijian truly wasn’t still lurking in wait for him that Ming Ying, having run far off, dared to fully reveal himself again.
Feeling his body beginning to burn with fever, he bowed his head and gazed at the bloodstained bandages on his chest.
“What a terrifying man. That uncanny weapon that appeared out of thin air—he didn’t even use it during that massacre, yet he still wiped out the cargo convoy.”
A man like that shouldn’t have ended up in the Frequency-lost Zone, Shade suddenly thought… could that person have appeared here after accepting a task from Hub Town?
But that was an impossible mission.
After all, anyone whose notoriety grew abnormally would be scrutinized and kept at arm’s length there; even if employed, they’d never be allowed access to the core components.
Suddenly, as if sensing something, Shade turned his head and was startled.
A young man with slightly yellowish hair tips stood nearby, a bit embarrassed.
“Hello, Mr. Shade. Our boss, the Wasteland Wagon Master, sent me to deliver a potent Ability Sphere for rapid injury recovery.”
Shade recognized this person from the footage of the Mental Link. He frowned.
“Alright, stay right there.”
Li Shangxiang innocently spread his hands to show he had no intention of moving, and he was still quite far away—about ten meters.
“Didn’t I say I have medical bandages?”
The pain made Shade want to collapse and close his eyes immediately. Realizing that the Wasteland Wagon Master had been keeping an eye on him, it wasn’t strange that his subordinate had found him, so Shade’s nervous heart relaxed slightly, and he let out a sigh of relief from deep within.
“But… you got here fast. It’s been less than five hours.”
“Yeah, it was a hard trek. Luckily, there were quite a few beast carriages heading to the inn.”
Li Shangxiang tossed an Ability Sphere over, then turned and walked a few steps away, making a “please” gesture.
Shadow waited a moment before bending down to pick up the Ability Sphere, a hint of confusion in his perception of the information it contained.
“Time Shift Transfer? What kind of healing ability is this?”
“It can transfer your injuries to me. All damage you’ve suffered, including your high fever, and of course all your extra time lines—this is somewhat of a side effect. So, um, esteemed sir, you’d better temporarily invest your time lines into someone else.”
Li Shangxiang walked further away.
Shadow felt reassured as a silver Model Ring emerged on his chest, and a broken line shot out.
[Ah Qian, store my time line for me. Return it in a minute.]
{Alright.}
Shadow confidently crushed the Ability Sphere.
[Time Shift Transfer initiated.]
[Transfer target noted: Li Shangxiang.]
[I will soon strip all temporal influences from my body.]
[You have already stripped all temporal influences from your body.]
The young man on the wasteland felt that his foggy mind, muddled from staying up late and having a fever, had indeed cleared up a bit.
“Not bad.” His body swayed slightly, and with a weak smile, he looked at his now empty hand. “Shangxiang? Huh? Where is he?”
Looking around, the wilderness stretched desolate with no one in sight.
“Ah Qian.”
For a long time, the uncanny ability, always felt as part of his body like a constant companion, strangely gave no response.
“…Ah… Ah Qian?”
A few seconds later, he looked down at his chest, showing no signs of recovery.
The young man stood frozen in shock before a sudden chill crept over him.
He shivered all over.
He knelt down in terror on the gravel ground.
He tore open his clothes, frantically ripping at the bloodstained bandages, clawing at the bloody skin on his chest, leaving red scratch marks from his nails.
Blood oozed out once more.
In despair, he wanted to scream, but couldn’t muster the strength to utter a single word. Only the plain’s wind, carrying silent air into his mouth, gently stuffed all the fear and resentment back into his chest, suffocating him.