Chapter 384: Southern Room

Chapter 384: Shinan

“These three individuals were the leaders of the Honghu faction who participated in the chaos of Edo—Huang Guo, Chu Ke, and Shui Village’s Five Dou.”

Sitting cross-legged beneath withered trees, Li Jun gazed at the three dynamic half-body projections flickering before him. The images were crisp, likely extracted from the lenses of some mechanical eyes.

“Though these people are certainly not in such a state anymore,” he murmured.

Ye Bi’an shook his head. “Their only value lies in confirming these three appeared in Edo as men. Of course, assuming the Honghu still observe gender norms.”

In the current age of the Great Ming Empire, appearance was of no use as a clue for investigation. Even the Great Ming Code explicitly forbade using non-original features as grounds for conviction.

The reason was simple: in this era, altering one’s visage was as easy as eating and drinking. If one merely entertained the notion, any street-side clinic could perform a head transplant with ease. And if one paid a little more, full-body skin grafts were possible—even fingerprints could be swapped.

As epochs evolved, Confucian doctrine, long revered for its belief in “bodily features inherited from parents,” no longer clung to such antiquated ideals. People abandoned their birth faces, seeking the “official countenance” of plump cheeks and broad shoulders favored by the heavens and earth, let alone other ranks.

Moreover, beyond surgical alterations, countless methods existed to change or conceal one’s features.

Zou Siu’s “demon mask,” once gifted to Li Jun, was one such method.

“Are there other ways to track them down?” Li Jun traced a finger along the translucent jawline, his unkept hair now brushing his eyebrows.

“There is—brain-computer links.”

Ye Bi’an spoke without hesitation. “Only this method ensures uniqueness, pinpointing identity with certainty. The Guardians of the Silk often rely on it as their breakthrough.”

“And for those without such implants?” Li Jun instinctively touched his neck.

Ye Bi’an’s expression turned grave. “Then we must err on the side of caution—no mercy.”

“Hmph.”

Li Jun chuckled dryly, gesturing toward the floating portraits. “Since everyone knows brain-computer links betray their bearers, the Honghu wouldn’t be so foolish as to leave such a trail, would they?”

“They inevitably do,” Ye Bi’an said slowly. “Though these links remain silent in peace, once their host engages in conflict, they inevitably activate—drawing the attention of the Empire’s Supreme Celestial Monitoring Bureau.”

Li Jun pondered this, quickly grasping the crux. “If only active states are detected, wouldn’t they vanish entirely once the battle ends, losing their trail?”

Ye Bi’an nodded. “Hence, our sole clue lies in the direction and general area of their flight before vanishing.”

“A daunting task,” Li Jun said, tapping his teeth. “What’s the point? Like fishing for a needle in the ocean.”

“If it were easy, the Honghu’s pestilence wouldn’t have clung to the Empire for so long, never fully eradicated.”

Ye Bi’an smiled. “Though at least there’s hope.”

“Indeed, we can only cling to that hope,” Li Jun sighed. “Such matters involving dreams and phantoms…”

Ye Bi’an smoothly interjected, “They’re best left to professionals.”

The two exchanged glances, then turned toward Zou Siu, still standing at the western edge.

“What’s the matter? Even after surrendering, you can’t help?”

Mount Gan is a coastal city in the Wa region, nestled in the southwest.

The salt-laden sea breeze carried cold rain, relentlessly scrubbing every corner of the city. The foul weather made the entire street appear hollow and empty.

Neon remnants cast eerie glows through the downpour, scattering fractured halos across uneven ground.

*Thud.*

A boot struck a puddle, its rippling reflection revealing a hurried silhouette.

Shinan adored rainy days, for only then did the throngs of noisy, blind crowds disperse. This foreign-ruled city shed its false glamour, revealing its true, tattered essence.

“This weather is best spent indoors, stirring a pot, pouring wine, watching the tide rise and hearing the rain fall nearby—nothing compares to such peace.”

Shinan’s lips curved with a self-deprecating smile. “Yet I’m a busy soul. Now I can’t even dream soundly.”

Recently, his dreams had been haunted by a stranger he’d never seen.

Lying in bed, the figure stood in the doorway’s shadow, face indistinct, unrecognizable. No words passed between them—only silent observation.

Though he’d confirmed his body bore no marks, no external danger lurked, the unease lingered.

“After this phase passes, I must seek that old mystic to divine my fate. When science fails, we resort to the arcane.”

With scattered thoughts weighing on him, Shinan quickened his pace, umbrella slicing through the rain.

“By imperial decree of the Great Ming Empire’s Wa Region Surveillance Office, effective from the second month of Jiaqi, all adult males in the Wa region, regardless of brain-computer link implants or skill mastery, may freely migrate to the Empire’s mainland for labor.”

In the glass display window, a surveillance official sat upright, his rigid smile repeating the same words. Even after speaking in classical Chinese, he’d repeat them in Wa dialect.

“Boys of tying-hair age may enter this city’s Confucian Temple for free education, board and lodging provided, plus academic subsidies.”

Shinan paused before the window, absorbing the new policies, then pressed his face against the glass.

Through the blurred reflection, he parted his eyelids, exposing his eyeballs to the cold air.

“Iris color correction accurate, freckles and blood vessels normal, features near-perfect compared to before.”

He studied his distorted, vivid face in the glass, nodding approvingly. “My craft hasn’t dulled, after all.”

Just as he prepared to inspect other details, a shout echoed from the narrow alley.

“Doctor Shinan!”

He froze, straightening his posture, offering a warm smile. “Old De. What brings you here?”

White-haired and dark-skinned, he wore a thin jacket in the cold, his bare arms gleaming with irregular silver marks.

Old De lingered at the umbrella’s edge, his smile eager, hands clasped behind his back.

“Haven’t seen you around lately. Busy somewhere?”

“Jing’an City’s pharmacies ran low. I went to Edo.”

Shinan chuckled. “City supplies are cheaper there, after all.”

“Ah!” Old De gasped, eyes wide with concern. “Heard a great upheaval erupted in Edo half a month ago—many dead. You unharmed?”

“You see me like this—do I look troubled?”

Shinan laughed heartily. “Just lucky. Left ahead of time. Don’t know what might’ve happened.”

“Thank the heavens. Thank the heavens.”

Old De puffed his chest, his lips fluttering, words tumbling out.

“What’s the matter, Old De? Just say it straight—no need to fuss.”

Shinan teased. “We’ve known each other long enough. Friends, all. Unless it’s unpaid bills.”

"Rest assured, no credit, absolutely no credit."

The words were spoken, yet the deepening look of awkward constriction on Lao De’s face laid his inner thoughts entirely bare.

"What on earth happened?"

Shinan’s brow knit slightly as he scanned the other man up and down. "Did you get hurt out at sea again?"

"Ah."

The old man seemed to be answering, yet it sounded more like a sigh.

He slowly hitched up the hem of his sleeveless tunic, revealing a savage, palm-length wound across his dark, leathery abdomen, its edges jagged and uneven—not the clean slice of a sharp blade, but a tearing laceration born of some violent impact.

"A few days back out at sea, I caught a bluefin tuna over ten feet long—ten feet, mind you! You can't even imagine how fat that fish was!"

The cold, dreary rain kept dripping down Lao De’s gaunt jawline, yet it did nothing to quench the bright, burning fervor in his eyes.

"A rare treasure like that doesn't come along often. To fetch the best price, we kept trailing it to wear down its endurance, planning to haul it up perfectly whole once it was completely exhausted."

Lao De chuckled dryly. "You know how it is, these rare specimens are getting scarcer by the day. Plenty of wealthy folks don't just love to eat them, they love to turn them into taxidermy. So the body absolutely cannot have a scratch on it."

Shinan’s tone turned astonished. "Then that wound of yours couldn't possibly be from the fish attacking you, right?"

"How could it be? How could those beasts ever hurt me."

The heat in Lao De’s eyes vanished rapidly, replaced by a bitter smile. "It was done by our own people."

Nothing more than an internal feud triggered by an uneven split of the spoils.

With Lao De still standing here now, there was no need to ask who had been sunk to the bottom of the sea.

Such occurrences were long past surprising to Shinan, and he chose not to probe any further.

"So you just dragged your feet and left it untreated all this time?"

Shinan extended two pale, slender fingers, pressing ever so gently against the wound on Lao De’s belly, which instantly oozed a mixture of murky yellow fluid and blood.

"I saw a few physicians, and they all said the internal organs are damaged beyond healing. The only fix is to replace them with cultured synthetic organs."

Lao De’s smile was strained. "You know as well as I do, the price of artificial organs is just too high."

"Those barefoot doctors are twisting things again just to swindle your money."

Without a second thought, Shinan said, "You could always use cybernetic replacements instead."

Lao De maintained the smile on his face, but his cracked lips pressed tightly together into a silent line.

One look at this demeanor and Shinan knew the man didn't even have the funds for mechanical organs, or rather, was unwilling to part with them.

"Selling that fish should have been enough to cover it."

Shinan stared at him, eyes wide. "Lao De, why be so stingy at a time like this? Do you really want money more than your life?"

"There's not much difference between having no money and having no life."

Lao De scratched his head. "Wouldn't you say so?"

For a moment, Shinan found himself at a loss for words. After a brief silence, he finally continued, "How about this: go to the black market right now and scrounge up some secondhand mechanical organs stripped from corpses. Remember, don't be greedy for a bargain and buy trash that's on the verge of scrapping; it needs to be at least fifty percent new for long-term use."

"Then buy two shots of anti-rejection serum produced by Dongbi Medical—the lowest tier will suffice. Keep your eyes sharp on the brand, don't let them fool you with those relabeled counterfeits manufactured in the Yamato District or Korea!"

"Right away, I'm on it." Wild joy washed over Lao De's face as he nodded frantically. "And what about your consultation fee?"

"You've been dragging that injury around waiting for me for so many days, how could I have the nerve to charge you a fee?"

Shinan replied testily, "Next time you go out to sea, just bring me back a small bluefin tuna. I've never tasted one myself."

"No problem at all, absolutely no problem!"

Lao De snapped his waist down into a rigid, perpendicular bow. "Thank you so very much."

"We're all friends here, I help where I can."

The black canopy of the umbrella tilted slightly, shielding Lao De’s already rain-soaked head.

"Lao De, let me ask you something."

"Please, go ahead."

Lao De looked up, only to find that Shinan’s expression had turned intensely solemn and meticulous.

"What do you think of life right now?"

Lao De let out a breath and shook his head with a chuckle. "Not much to think of, just scraping by. Besides, what kind of 'life' do people like us even have? At most, it's just survival."

A difference of a single concept, yet worlds apart.

"Then you've never thought about making a change?"

The deep neon blue pierced through the night rain, striking the back of Shinan’s head. The shadows beneath his brow ridges resembled two unfathomable, dried-up wells, devoid of even a speck of reflected light from his pupils.

"Of course I've thought about it."

Lao De raised his arms with a look of immense pride. "Didn't I change into these two mechanical limbs? Speaking of which, I have to thank you. If you hadn't helped me modify them, I probably wouldn't have made it back this time."

Shinan pressed further, "And besides that?"

"Beyond that, I wouldn't dare dream."

Lao De smiled with contentment. "It's already a blessing that my genes can handle this much modification. But I've made up my mind—when I get back, I'm throwing the brat at home off the ship and sending him to the Confucian Temple to study."

Shinan paused, startled. "You want him to learn to be a scholar of the Ming Empire?"

"That boy doesn't have that kind of good fortune."

Lao De pointed toward the display window behind Shinan. "Those masters over there said it themselves: room and board are covered, and there's money to be made. How could anyone pass up such a good thing?"

"Fine then, hurry along to the black market and buy your supplies."

A sudden wave of weariness took the wind out of Shinan's sails. He pulled the brim of the umbrella back over his own head and waved his hand. "Your injury can't afford any more delay."

With that, Shinan stepped into the cramped, narrow alleyway, where the cold, dreary rain lessened considerably.

Wildly sprouting signboards of every color on both sides choked the sky until only a slender slit remained, while a dense thicket of wire bundles interlaced overhead, shrouding the space like a spider's web.

Beside his feet ran currents of foul water, the drainage gutters choked with a chaotic mess of mechanical components whose original structures were no longer recognizable.

Among the debris, one could occasionally spot Huangliang illusion chips painted an oily, greasy pink. These were deliberately scattered bait; the moment anyone dared to link with them, a Huangliang ghost would instantly occupy the nest, turning the victim into prime material for crafting automata.

The solitary black umbrella came to a halt before a mottled, peeling wooden door, flanked by a hand-carved poetic couplet.

Seeking the immortal dwelling of the fleshly meridians, entering the ritual sacrifice of conscious senses.

The horizontal scroll above read: Flesh and Machine Sing in Unison.

The tonal meter was completely mismatched, and the imagery was utterly absurd, resembling the reckless hangover of a drunken escapade.

Two brass tiger heads embedded in the main door clamped onto a crossbar, secured by an extremely rare, old-fashioned brass lock.

In a street like this, such a method of theft prevention was practically nonexistent. Yet strangely, there was not a single scratch from a lockpick on the mechanism; it seemed no thief dared to entertain designs on this place.

Shinan lit a red lantern hanging beneath the eaves of the entrance before pushing the door open to step inside.

The interior consisted of two interconnected rooms running east to west, furnished in the manner of a perfectly ordinary underground clinic.

The eastern room featured a medicine cabinet that occupied an entire wall, alongside a massive human anatomical model thickly dotted with red points and intersecting lines, tracing the pathways of the body's channels and acupoints.

Without a doubt, this room followed the traditional path of the Ming Empire's medical practice: inspection, auscultation, inquiry, and palpation.

In the room at the western wing, there stood an operating table, surrounded by an assortment of medical instruments and refrigerated cabinets, all to satisfy the diagnostic methods of the Western barbarians—sight, touch, percussion, and listening.

Though this clinic was small as a sparrow, it contained everything one might need, with all the organs in place.

"Is this the clinic of Doctor Shin Nan?"

A magnetic voice drifted in from the doorway.

"It is."

Shin Nan, who was rummaging through the medicine cabinet, turned his head. There, standing at the threshold, was a man dressed in a crisp suit, his hair neatly combed back, shaking droplets of rain from his coat.

"Are you the guest who made an appointment?"

Zi Si Jiu placed his hands on his temples, sliding them gently downward, and flashed a smile revealing his pale, gleaming teeth.

"Indeed, I am."