Chapter 106: In Search of Good Luck – 1

{At that time, the person who held the name of Shi Qian was the one of the Silver Model. The Hunters’ Alliance, which split from the Xiongying Group, was also founded by him.}
{But even after they parted ways, they remained in frequent contact, entangled in a complex web of relations. Those who stayed behind in the Xiongying Group were not wholeheartedly serving their respective overseers, and so some began to seek the destruction of the Hunters’ Alliance.}
Overseers? Yang Zicang immediately felt that these must be beings similar to council members.
“And who was it that destroyed the Hunters’ Alliance?” Luo Bin asked, concerned.
This was intelligence he had only heard of but never grasped, known only to the old-timers at headquarters.
In a world where everyone could live for hundreds or even thousands of years, truly surviving a few years already counted as being seasoned.
{The woman who left the Hunting Alliance, Hei Yang, and the newcomer afterward, Zhao Anlong. They founded the Monster Hunter Alliance and the Goddess Alliance.}
“……”
{If it weren’t for the leader of the Xiongying Group at the time who fully blocked them, they would have nearly unified the city. Your headquarters, the Monster Hunter Camp, are borrowing the name “Hunting Alliance” from when it was immensely prestigious—inheriting this name represents legitimacy.}
In Yang Zicang’s mind surfaced that boy of average height but lean and fierce, whose single punch seemed capable of tearing space apart.
A figure like that was still counted as one of the “Headquarters’” founders.
“What about Shi Qian?”
{This is all I know—overheard while they were chatting. Shi Qian has been missing for many years.}
Among the chosen summoners assigned to herself by the Councilwoman, that person was absent, or perhaps one of the other two might have his true name.
But now, another man claiming to be Shi Qian appeared in the Land of Lost Frequencies and stole the water well destined for the construction shackous site.
This sort of person could never be compared to the kind of man who would resolve to split apart the Xiongying Group and create a new organization representing a faction.
Luo Bin shook as he picked up a can of beer.
Yang Zicang, deep in thought, glanced at the man whose face was twisted with pain.
“I thought you were going to quit drinking.”
“I’m only having one sip.”
“I’ll be relying on you for the gathering later. Don’t mess things up.”
“Aiya, I’ve analyzed about everything I can from the info I’ve got. Whatever’s left, my model will handle it—no problem. Once you two meet, I’ll get that little tail of his, hehehe.”
When they returned, it was already a little past midnight.
Without time for introductions, Yang Zicang grabbed Luo Bin and hurriedly pulled him out, speaking while they walked:
“You just wait outside later. Don’t break the mind link with me.”
Luo Bin nodded. At the moment, there was no sound in the hallway. This floor had hardly any guests staying in it, only the patrolling guards passing by from time to time downstairs.
Yang Zicang went up to the second floor, straightened his attire, and then strode toward Room 33.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in.” A young man’s voice came from inside the room.
A model glow flickered on Yang Zicang’s chest as he turned the doorknob and gently pushed the door open.
The light inside seemed to have been absorbed by some mysterious treasure. The room itself was the same, but the atmosphere felt like it belonged to another dimension.
“This is the effect of the Place of Tranquility. Of course, it’s just borrowing the name—the real Place of Tranquility isn’t like this.”
“And what’s the effect?”
“It blocks out all interference.”
Yang Zicang took a step forward. He felt a sense that the model before him was about to lose connection, but somehow, it managed to hold on, barely.
Inside the room, the man with his back to Yang Zicang, who had been brewing black tea, turned his head to look, slightly surprised.
“It didn’t dissipate after all. Your mental strength is quite impressive. Usually, even quadrilateral models would break apart.”
“It’s nothing special.”
Yang Zicang took a step forward and gently closed the door behind him, instantly making the room feel sealed off from the outside world—an atmosphere that was genuinely relaxing.
“Hum, hum hum hum~”
The man across from him hummed a tune as he brought over a teacup of black tea and placed it on the edge of the round table aligned with a chair.
“Fermented black tea, rich and smooth in taste. This amount won’t cause insomnia—though for you, it probably doesn’t matter anyway, right?”
He returned to the cabinet, took a sip from his own cup, then drew the curtains shut. Strolling back, he pulled out a chair, sat down, and crossed his long, straight legs.
Seeing his relaxed demeanor, Yang Zicang also pulled out a chair and sat down. Then he took a letter from his pocket and placed it on the table.
“Hmm, this letter was left by Zorro’s instructions.” The man said nonchalantly.
“Then what about you? I thought you were Zorro himself.”
“As much as he trusts people, he wouldn’t do something so—well, so romantic in this kind of world, wouldn’t he? That only exists in novels. Do you have any questions to ask?”
“Who are you, and why did you want me to meet you?”
“I thought you’d ask about him directly. Oh, but of course—to you, they’re just dispensable characters. It’s perfectly normal whether you care or not.”
After saying this, the man picked up the teacup by its handle, showing no intention of introducing himself.
“Zorro wants Shi Qian to have one more enemy like me, doesn’t he?”
“No. Zorro doesn’t care about them at all.”
Them…
Yang Zicang’s prepared retort was all shoved back into his mouth.
“Then why did he impersonate my assistant?”
“That’s not impersonation—in a certain sense.”
“If that doesn’t count as impersonation, then what does?”
Both Yang Zicang and Luo Bin on the other side felt their rhythm thrown off.
“Hmm, if you have no other questions besides this, our chat tonight can end right here.”
Yang Zicang scoffed helplessly. He’d spent a good hour or two making this trip—only to have just barely sat down. There was no way it’d wrap up like this.
He thought it over. His counterpart had subtly implied from the start that he would only answer questions related to Zorro.
So Yang Zicang recalibrated his mindset and followed the other’s lead: “Fine. Then tell me, who is the phantom thief Zorro?”
“First, let me correct a small wording of yours, Mr. Yang. It’s the righteous swordsman Zorro, not the phantom thief. Zorro—whether in novels, movies, or here—is no thief. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
The man holding the teacup looked earnestly at the young man across from him, whose expression was skeptical.
“Fine, assume that’s the case. Then what was the purpose of his coming here under the guise of my assistant to the auction?”
“To make you famous.”
Yang Zicang’s mind first turned to his own mission.
“Fame?”
“NO, it’s exactly the fame as we understand it—letting everyone know who you are, letting the bosses here realize there’s someone who can build a quality water source engine. He wants to create more orders for you so more people can drink clean water. That was his original intention from the start.”
“I…” Yang Zicang barely managed to suck the breath back into his lungs.
{Damn it!}
Someone else voiced the curse stuck in his throat on his behalf.
What a genuinely good guy thinking of others. How wonderful. Clenching his teeth, Yang Zicang mentally cursed this meddlesome pest, who had sent him as many Mental Link requests in an afternoon as harassment calls after a bad review on an online purchase.
“So, what you said about a certain sense in which he didn’t actually impersonate my assistant—you mean that?”
“Mm-hmm. He’ll help you. The next target is the Excellence Workshop. He’s on his way there now—a bit far, but he can get there within three days.”
Before he even knew what kind of dump that place was, this Zorro was already going there?
What for—to draft a work schedule for him?!
“He’ll find a way to get those folks over to place orders.”
As if reading Yang Zicang’s thoughts, the man smiled. “Now you know: he’s not your enemy. He really is your unpaid assistant.”
“How many time credits did he sell? If he’s not my enemy, then kindly tell him to give them back to me.”
“First of all, he’s not the one who stole your engine. If you want to recoup the losses, he’s not the person you should be looking for.”
Luo Bin on the Mental Link was completely stunned by this.
{Great, perfect logic, all blame dodged.}
Yang Zicang pulled his jacket tighter around himself, lounged casually against the chair’s back, and let out a breath.
“I think I’ve asked pretty much everything I need to ask. But I’m still very curious—what is he to you?”
“You don’t need to ask that; I’ll take it as if you did. Well, he’s my unpaid assistant. He serves me.”
“Great.” Yang Zicang propped one hand on the table, ready to stand up and leave.
The man across from him set down the rather refined teacup, his gaze warm but maintaining a certain distance as he looked at Yang Zicang.
“Is there something else?”
“I’ve been having some bad luck lately. It’s rare to meet someone like you with such good fortune; humor me and chat a little longer.”
Yang Zicang was taken aback for a moment, realizing the man was probably referring to the unpaid assistant comment, and found it both hilarious and exasperating.
“You sent over from Hinge City, right? Got a mission?” the man asked.
“Sort of.”
“Your mission is to find that place where the model’s lines are refined, isn’t it. And you’re boosting your profile relentlessly for that reason.”
Suddenly, Yang Zicang felt the entire world—the sky, the ground, the buildings—everything was watching him.
Snap. The Mental Link trembled and cut out.
“You…”
“You’re having bad luck now too. Look at this mess—life’s just so unpredictable.”
The man across from him smiled as he looked at Yang Zicang.
“Still, my luck might just get better.”
He spoke while playfully pinching the teacup, the mischief of his tone uncertain.
Yang Zicang sat back down softly, a faint, dangerous aura emanating from him.
But the pressure of the world soon suppressed his attempt, as if protecting this man who had uncovered the hidden conspiracy.
Yang Zicang felt, in the unseen, that a certain door had been permanently locked against him.
In this land, certain pre-existing entities were extremely wary of him, and from now on, direct connection with them here would forever be impossible.
It was like a homeowner, aware that a visitor entering the house harbors ulterior motives, planning to take something that doesn’t belong to him right under the owner’s nose—then the room where the items are stored would never be allowed within his reach.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yang Zicang became calm.
The man across smiled, an expression that seemed to say, “Don’t even try to deny it.”
“It’s okay. Just like how Zorro doesn’t care whether you regard him as your assistant or not—he acts as if he is your assistant. That place’s presence will think the same way.”
Yang Zicang was momentarily at a loss for words.
“There are many things you don’t know how to express, aren’t there? It’s like that here, no way around it.”
The man’s fair fingers tapped lightly on the table.
“Speak it, write it, tap it out in Morse code—all of it is information transmission, even through a Mental Link. Those damned journalists know everything.”