Chapter 784: Chapter 651: Contemplation

When Eric pushed open the door of the old bookstore, the door hinges emitted a long creak as usual.

This sound had become so familiar to him that it felt endearing.

Two months ago, he found the sound grating, but now it felt as if the bookstore would be missing something without that creak.

Just like the fog of Wudu, without fog, Wudu wouldn’t be Wudu.

"Boss." He nodded towards Jeming in the rocking chair.

Jeming acknowledged with a hum, lifted his gaze from the newspaper to glance at him, then looked back at the newspaper.

As usual, there were no unnecessary expressions, nor unnecessary pleasantries.

Eric had gotten used to Jeming’s reaction.

He went to the bookshelf but didn’t select a book. Instead, he took out the medical book Jeming had given him from his chest pocket and sat on a small stool by the window.

The book was already very worn, with countless creases on the spine and fingerprints and sweat stains on the edges of the pages.

Reading at home would be the same, but he still preferred to read here.

Even though there was the sound of Jeming flipping through the newspaper, the occasional whimper of wind through the door cracks, and the distant, low echo of factory whistles.

But these sounds mixed to form a kind of background noise that calmed him.

More importantly, while reading here, if there was something he didn’t understand, he could directly ask Jeming.

And aside from answering questions, Jeming would often counter-question based on the questions Eric raised.

Those questions often left Eric stunned, leading him to go back and flip through the book, finding the answers himself in the process.

This method was quite torturous, but surprisingly effective.

Eric found that he remembered more and more things, and not just by rote memorization, but in a way that showed true understanding.

"After the blood is pumped out of the heart, it travels through the arteries to reach the capillaries, and then returns through the veins," Jeming’s voice came from the direction of the rocking chair, in that leisurely tone that sounded both like talking to himself and speaking to Eric. "How does the blood pressure change in this process?"

Eric’s hand stopped flipping the book.

His mind began to race.

Jeming seemed to have asked this question before, on which page was it...

He quickly flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning lines of text and graphs.

"Arterial blood pressure is the highest, capillaries second, veins the lowest." He found the answer but wasn’t sure, so he raised his head to glance at Jeming.

Jeming wasn’t looking at him, the newspaper blocking his face.

"What is the source of the driving force for venous return?"

Eric lowered his head to flip through the book again.

This time he flipped faster because he remembered the keywords.

A few pages later, he found it: "The suction action of the heart, respiratory movement, squeezing of skeletal muscles... and venous valves preventing backflow."

"What effect would prolonged bed rest have on venous return?"

Eric’s fingers paused on the page.

This question didn’t have a direct answer in the book, but he could deduce it.

With the squeezing of skeletal muscles gone, the return would likely slow down...

Slowing to a certain extent, blood would accumulate in the veins, possibly forming a thrombus...

He opened his mouth, wanting to voice his deduction, but wasn’t sure if he was correct.

Jeming put down the newspaper and glanced at him.

The look was very calm, as if watching a fledgling bird learning to fly.

Then he picked up the newspaper again, turning to the next page.

"Chapter three, section three."

Eric nodded with sweat on his forehead and buried himself in reading.

Jeming put down the newspaper, leaned back in the rocking chair, his gaze resting on the light bulb on the ceiling.

The bulb was off, the light fixture on the ceiling dangling an empty wire.

He was still using that oil lamp, with its orange-yellow light dancing on the bookshelves, casting uneven shadows on the spines of the old books.

His attention shifted from Eric to another issue.

Three days had passed.

From the battle in the abandoned industrial zone up till now, it had been three days.

He used Spiritual Power to cover the entire city during the daytime, scanning every street, every building, every underground space, attempting to find those Black-robed People’s base. But to no avail.

Logically speaking, his Spiritual Power could cover the entire Wudu during the day.

Even if he weren’t worried about excessive extension of Spiritual Power causing other strange stress responses, with Jeming’s current strength of Spiritual Power, covering the entire continent would not be a problem.

The immense Spiritual Power allowed him to meticulously record every corner’s information.

Whether it was a conversation happening in a secret room or a clandestine gathering underground, nothing could escape his perception.

But those Black-robed People seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Theoretically, even if these Black-robed People were hiding, they wouldn’t escape Jeming’s probing.

But despite this, Jeming still hadn’t found any trace of those people.

This pointed to one problem: those Black-robed People could only be active at night.

Jeming’s fingers lightly tapped the armrest of the rocking chair twice.

Another problem was, within Wudu, he hadn’t found a suitable place to serve as a "base."

It’s not that he found one but lacked evidence, but from a physical space perspective, there was no place in this city that could accommodate those Black-robed People without being discovered by him.

Abandoned factories, underground passages, vacant houses in the old town...

He had checked them all with Spiritual Power; they were either too small, too empty, or simply unsuitable as a long-term base.

Unless... the enemy’s stronghold is not in Wudu.

Either it’s in the endless wilderness outside the city or in another city.

But Jeming quickly ruled out the latter possibility.

Due to the rampant strangeness on this Plane, the cities are not closely connected.

Except for the fixed communication and transportation channels between the official Spirit Communicator Associations, ordinary people have almost no contact.

The relationship between cities is a bit like isolated islands on land, each dealing with their own strange problems.

A cult organization from another city, coming to Wudu just to disrupt the Wudu Spirit Communicator Association’s sealing of strange activities?

The possibility is too low.

Why would they do that?

What benefit would it have for them?

The risks and costs of cross-city actions are extremely high, and if exposed, they would face combined attacks from the Spirit Communicator Associations of both cities.

Unless there is an extremely sufficient reason, no one would do such a foolish thing.

So, what about the wilderness?

Jeming closed his eyes and sketched the geographical environment around Wudu in his mind.

Wudu faces the sea to the east, with rolling hills and wastelands to the west and north, and marshlands to the south.

These places are deserted, lacking resources, and teeming with bandits.

If ordinary people enter the wilderness unprepared, their survival rate is less than thirty percent.

But if a group of Spiritualists established a hidden stronghold in the wilderness, it’s not entirely impossible.

The problem lies in resources.

Resources within the wilderness are extremely scarce; food and water are not major issues, otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many bandits.

The focus is on medicines, experimental materials, and various experimental equipment...

All these things need to be transported from the city, significantly increasing the cost.

Furthermore, the risk of being discovered would also rise, since transportation implies a route, and a route implies it can be tracked.

Jeming opened his eyes.

Suddenly, he thought of something.

Those Black-robed People, he actually "knew" them.

Not that he knew them in reality, but his Spiritual Power had "seen" them during a scan in daylight.

Those people have actually always lived in Wudu... as ordinary people.

Factory workers, dock laborers, street vendors, even the owner of a shop.

These people live identical lives to ordinary people during the day, without any abnormalities.

But at night, they put on black robes, picked up kerosene lamps, and became those well-trained, fearless cult members.

Jeming’s fingers stopped tapping.

"In summary, there are two possibilities," Jeming mulled over in his mind.

First, those Black-robed People have informants in Wudu.

And they are the kind of people who can transport large amounts of resources and intelligence to their base in the wilderness for them.

Second, the other party used some means to sever his Spiritual Power detection.

Maybe it’s a special strangeness that can block Spiritual Power scans; maybe it’s a Sealing Array that can hide their stronghold in a layer of space he can’t see.

The strange characteristics of this world are bizarre and diverse; he has only encountered the tip of the iceberg.

Before fully understanding, Jeming didn’t dare to claim he could indeed discover all places hidden by strangeness.

Both possibilities are very high.

If it’s the first, then those informants must not have low status.

After all, if they were ordinary people, just surviving would already take all their effort, let alone providing large amounts of resources transported outside the city, which is almost impossible.

If it’s the second, then it’s even more troublesome.

The other party possesses means to block Spiritual Power scans, specifics unknown, worst-case scenario should be prepared for.

Perhaps the Wizard cooperating with them has already taught them some basic detection and countermeasures of the Wizard World.

Jeming stood up from the rocking chair, walked to the door, and pushed open the wooden door.

The morning in Wudu was the same as usual, with grayish-purple light leaking through the thick fog, casting a blurry shadow on the wet stone pavement.

He stood at the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching the sparse pedestrians on the street.

Since the previous thoughts couldn’t be determined, Jeming turned his attention to another known clue.

The clues exposed in previous battles all pointed in one direction: there is an insider in the Spirit Communicator Association.

The Black-robed People knew the association’s action time, array placement, and the defense weakness in the sea direction.

This intelligence couldn’t have been obtained just by external observation. There must be someone inside the association providing them with this information.

That person may not have a high position but must have access to the action plans.

Jeming felt that to catch the other party, he still needed to start with this insider.

Previously, the capture plan for Shadow Thief by the Spirit Communicator Association wasn’t too confidential, so the investigation was rather troublesome.

But it shouldn’t take long before the Spirit Communicator Association takes action on that front.

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