Taking the Tang Sect's Turf

At 6:40 p.m. the next day, Ling Zichen stood outside No. 17 Bluestone Street.

It was an old-fashioned three-story building. The exterior walls were made of blue-gray stone bricks, and the frontage was small. The sign above the entrance read "Bluestone Restaurant" in four characters, written in a slim, clean style with crisp strokes.

She pushed open the door and walked in.

The frontage was small, but the interior extended farther back than it appeared from outside.

A narrow corridor began at the entrance. A faded landscape painting hung on the wall to the left, while two potted green plants stood on the right, their leaves neatly and cleanly trimmed.

A faint herbal fragrance drifted through the air. It was not the smell of spices, but more like the scent of wood smoked over a certain kind of tea for many years.

She walked a few steps inside and paused at the foot of the stairs. An old man in a gray cloth apron poked his head out from behind the counter and glanced at her. He did not ask anything, merely raised a hand and pointed upstairs.

"Please go on up. You're the only table of guests tonight."

Ling Zichen followed his gesture upstairs. The staircase was wooden, and she could feel a slight springiness beneath her feet. There was no dust on the handrail, showing that although this place was inconspicuous, it was maintained diligently.

Moreover, judging from what the man had just said, this was probably one of those relatively high-end restaurants that operated by reservation only.

At the end of the second-floor corridor was a half-closed door, with warm yellow light spilling through the crack.

She walked over and pushed the door open. The private room was furnished simply—a round table, two chairs, and a pot of tea with two cups placed in the center.

The teapot lid was not fully closed. A thin strand of steam rose through the gap, as if someone had only just poured in the water.

However, there was no one in the private room.

Ling Zichen did not hurry to sit down.

She stood at the doorway for two seconds first, sweeping her gaze across the entire room—the direction the window faced, the thickness of the curtains, and whether there were any unnecessary surveillance devices or anything else that should not be there.

Only after confirming that there was nothing unusual did she enter and sit in the chair by the window. She undid one button of her coat but did not take it off.

She looked at the empty chair and waited for a while.

Steam was still rising from the teapot, but it was already thinner than before.

She reached out and touched the outside of the cup. It was warm to the touch, and the water had probably been poured three to five minutes earlier.

That meant the other party was somewhere in this building. Had the man downstairs poured it, or had it been the mysterious person who invited her?

About two minutes later, footsteps sounded from the stairwell.

They were not heavy, but their rhythm was steady. The intervals between each step were almost identical, precise as if someone had timed them down to the second.

The footsteps stopped in the corridor for a moment. Then someone pushed open the half-closed door from outside.

A black-haired boy walked in.

He was far smaller than Ling Zichen had imagined—so small that she had not even considered the possibility that the other party might be a child.

He entered without the slightest hesitation. His gaze did not wander, and he showed none of the instinctive curiosity with which children usually looked around when entering an unfamiliar environment.

Even so, Ling Zichen immediately connected him with the major news that had recently shaken Mingdu. Vaguely, she also guessed his identity.

Mo Yuan walked straight to the empty chair, pulled it out, and sat down. His movements were smooth and natural, as though he had returned to his own office.

"Drink the tea while it's hot if you can," he said. "It gets astringent if you leave it too long."

Ling Zichen looked at him without touching the tea.

It was not that she had never drunk tea poured by someone else. But until she had completely confirmed the other party's identity, she was not accustomed to putting something else in her hands that required her attention.

"Did you write that paper?" Ling Zichen asked, getting straight to the point with her first question.

"Of course I did." Mo Yuan nodded, poured himself a cup as well, lifted it, and took a sip. Then he pointed at his own head. "That includes what you saw and what you didn't. The rest is already in my head."

Ling Zichen's eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly.

"The feedback-path correction method you used is completely different from every paper I've read before. How did you arrive at it?"

"I derived it myself, naturally. Given the Federation's current level of technology, no one else has managed to take this step yet." Mo Yuan placed his cup back on the table. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, "Of course, your research direction can't be called wrong. But you're stuck on a boundary condition. The design concept for the energy-return node in the feedback array is redundant by nature. You failed to realize that the redundancy itself was unnecessary, so you kept adding to that node until it became more and more complicated. If you cut out that node and connect directly to the next layer of structure, the stability of the entire feedback chain will increase severalfold. The reason your research stalled during the final stage of deduction is that you haven't discovered that the structure treated as essential can actually be discarded."

Ling Zichen immediately caught the deeper meaning in his words. "How did you know the progress of my experiments?"

"Hm? Is that difficult to find out? If I may be blunt, the Tang Sect's database security system isn't much more sophisticated than the Federation's." Mo Yuan shook his head and said with an expression of regret.

"Phew..." Ling Zichen drew in a deep breath. Being mocked to her face was truly unpleasant, but for someone who conducted research, being inferior in skill was simply a fact. There was nothing to argue about.

"You invited me here. Surely it wasn't just to mock how backward the Tang Sect's defenses are, right? Just say it. What do you want me to help you with?" Ling Zichen asked.

"Smart. I like dealing with people like you. To be frank, I've been too busy lately, so I need an assistant." Mo Yuan spread his hands and said without the slightest attempt to hide it, "For that reason, I searched through the databases of all the major powers and eventually found you. Of everyone I've learned about, you're the most suitable."

Ling Zichen leaned back against the chair and tapped the edge of the table twice with her fingers.

"You should know my position in the Tang Sect. What makes you so certain I'll give up the generous treatment there to come work for you? And aren't you afraid I'll report this after I return and have the Tang Sect come looking for trouble?"

"Hahaha. Naturally, I had my reasons for seeking you out. Besides, you can always see whether you're capable of escaping from me." Mo Yuan's tone remained steady. How could he have come without making any preparations?

He paused. "Moreover, the field you're interested in has always lacked a true platform for experimentation. The Tang Sect's equipment isn't bad, but you should also know what a resource-intensive field Source research is."

Ling Zichen said nothing. Judging from her expression, she had already been prepared for this.

Because she truly knew how heavily Source research consumed resources.

Back then, the Federation had built three Level 12 Fixed Soul Tool Cannon Shells, and it still had not fully recovered from the strain. It could be said that a considerable portion of the Federation's sensitivity to resource shortages was thanks to those three "resource hogs."

She was silent for a while before reaching out and lifting the cup of tea for a sip.

The tea was at just the right temperature. It was slightly cooler than she had expected, but not yet bland.

Seeing her action, Mo Yuan nodded. That was tantamount to agreeing.

"Let's make one thing clear beforehand. I need to read the complete paper first," Ling Zichen said. "The copy you gave me only contains the first half. If there are no problems with the deduction logic in the second half, I'll contact you again."

Mo Yuan said nothing more. He directly took a thin silver data card from his Storage Soul Tool and pushed it across the table.

The card was smooth and flat, with no markings on its surface.

Ling Zichen picked up the data card without checking it on the spot and placed it directly into an inner pocket.

"Come find me as soon as you've finished reading it. As for the Tang Sect... I believe Zang Xin is a smart man. Even if you tell him directly, it won't matter."

"Of course, it won't matter if he refuses either," Mo Yuan said. "Just keep what's on the data card. You don't need to return it."

It was merely a rather "outdated" piece of technology, and he did not care much about it.

Of course, he had no idea what kind of retaliation the Tang Sect would face afterward.

After all, he was not particularly broad-minded himself.

Ling Zichen looked at him, and the corner of her mouth moved ever so slightly.

She rarely showed such an expression. In fact, ever since she had taken on the Single-Unit Positive Source Feedback Array, she had increasingly come to resemble a robot.

Ling Zichen said softly, "You're a very interesting person. Goodbye."

Her footsteps receded along the corridor, went down the stairs, and vanished into the foyer below.

Mo Yuan sat alone in the private room and slowly finished the remaining half cup of tea.

The tea had indeed grown somewhat cool, and its astringency was stronger than before.

He placed the cup back on the table, stood up, straightened the chair, and then left as well.