Chapter 362: Explosion of Opportunities! Night-walker

Chapter 362 -196: Explosion of Opportunities! Night-walker

Dong Hui opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed his words.

Next, they visited two more shops: one specializing in miscellaneous items, the other primarily in weapons.

As usual, Wan Ze handled every item but bought nothing.

He even ended up crouching before a roadside stall, rummaging through a pile of trinkets the owner had laid out on the ground.

Dong Hui squatted down beside him to look. It was nothing more than some copper coins, tobacco pipes, old pocket watches, and a random assortment of unidentifiable Jade Pendants.

Before Dong Hui could even figure out if there were any hidden gems to be found, he saw Wan Ze touch every single item, then stand up. The stall owner hadn’t even finished his sip of tea when Wan Ze simply dusted off his knees… and left.

“…Seriously? Not even a token haggle?”

“…”

Dejectedly, Dong Hui got to his feet and followed.

“Mr. Wang?”

“Let’s keep looking.”

They proceeded to visit three more shops, not even sparing the roadside stalls.

Following behind, Dong Hui had gone from anticipation to confusion, and now… to being thoroughly drenched in sweat.

Over an hour.

In over an hour, he had accompanied Mr. Wang through five shops and twelve roadside stalls, where he must have handled nearly three hundred antiques.

And in the end, he was still empty-handed.

He hadn’t bought a single thing.

Dong Hui was genuinely baffled by now, but a sense of panic was also starting to bubble up inside him.

He truly couldn’t figure Wan Ze out.

Boss Zhao’s instructions had been: “Take Mr. Wang to see the antiques, and let him take whatever he likes.” Now Mr. Wang hadn’t liked a single thing. How was he supposed to explain this to Boss Zhao when he got back?

What made him even more uneasy was Uncle Dou’s attitude. Uncle Dou had said, “Put it on my tab.” With those words out there, if Mr. Wang didn’t take anything, what would Uncle Dou think?

Would he think Mr. Wang was being disrespectful, or that he, Dong Hui, was incompetent?

The more Dong Hui thought about it, the more he panicked. He took a deep breath, slowed his pace, and moved to a position slightly behind and to the side of Wan Ze. He began cautiously, “Mr. Wang, why don’t you pick a couple of items? Boss Zhao already said… to put it on his account.”

Wan Ze didn’t answer right away.

He stood on the long street, surrounded by figures coming and going, the air filled with the rise and fall of hushed whispers.

His gaze wasn’t fixed on any particular object. Instead, it passed over the shops to look toward the end of the long street.

The lights grew sparser there, and darkness crept up from the end of the street, slow and unstoppable as the tide.

Wan Ze’s gaze finally fell upon the semi-transparent data window…

[Stealing Celestial Secret successful! Blade Intent comprehension +52%!]

[Stealing Celestial Secret successful! Crisis Perception +57%!]

[Stealing Celestial Secret successful! Bronze Ware Forging Technique analysis +105%!]

[Stealing Celestial Secret successful! …]

There were over a hundred entries in total.

But Wan Ze’s eyes lingered on these gains for less than a second before he quickly scanned past them.

Because there was nothing related to Qi Refiners.

Not a single thing…

Wan Ze sighed silently.

‘This doesn’t seem like a coincidence.’

So many antiques, covering so many different eras, yet not a single one was related to Qi Refiners.

There were no items capable of triggering a Stealing Celestial Secret related to “Qi Refining.”

Wan Ze didn’t believe this was a matter of luck.

He glanced back at the brightly lit street.

The lights from the shops merged into a single, glowing ribbon cutting through the darkness.

But on this entire street, there might not be a single item related to Qi Refiners.

Wan Ze felt this wasn’t a natural absence, but the result of a deliberate filtering.

Perhaps, behind the scenes of this black market, someone had already collected all the items related to Qi Refiners.

Someone higher up, perhaps.

Wan Ze withdrew his gaze and looked at Dong Hui.

Dong Hui was staring at him, his face a ludicrous mixture of hope and anxiety.

“Mr. Wang, perhaps you could…” Dong Hui began again, tentatively.

“There’s no need.” Wan Ze cut him off, his tone calm and direct. “I’ll talk to Old Zhao myself. Thank you for your trouble today, Boss Dong.”

Dong Hui froze for a moment, his mouth opening and closing.

He didn’t dare to persuade him any further.

Whatever Wan Ze said, he would just have to listen.

“Mr. Wang, is there anything else you need?” Dong Hui tried a different approach.

“No. Let’s go. I’ll trouble you to take me to Property Plaza,” Wan Ze said.

“Not at all, not at all.” Dong Hui nodded repeatedly. He turned to the side, made a welcoming gesture, and then walked ahead to lead the way.

…

In an office within the black market.

This office wasn’t on the main street, but behind an inconspicuous wooden door at the far end of the long street.

Pushing open the wooden door revealed a narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor was an iron door, and behind that iron door was the office.

The room was spacious and elegantly furnished.

The floor was covered with dark, solid wood floorboards that made no sound when stepped on.

On the wall hung an ink wash landscape painting depicting high mountains and a sea of clouds. The brushwork was masterful, the ink tones perfectly balanced.

Against the wall was a mahogany desk, its surface completely clear.

Uncle Dou stood by the window, his back to the light.

The glass was thick—one couldn’t see in from the outside, but one could see out. From this vantage point, he had a perfect view of the bustling scene on the long street below.

He held a stemmed glass filled with a deep red liquid.

But Uncle Dou didn’t drink. He simply held it, gently swirling his wrist to make the liquid spin slowly against the glass.

“Are you saying he didn’t take anything?”

Uncle Dou’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

The person in the shadows stood before the desk, about two meters from Uncle Dou. His posture was reverent, hands hanging motionlessly at his sides.

Already dressed in dark clothing, he seemed half-swallowed by the gloom, with only the curve of his jaw and the line of his throat visible.