Chapter 236: Businessman

Zheng Fa truly felt Tang Lingwumin's description was vivid.

The white old man beside him also nodded repeatedly, saying, "This Heaven River Venerable has great ambition, pity you say this new Heaven River method has been lost."

"If it hadn't been lost, this new method probably had problems too," Zheng Fa mused. "From what I know, this new method itself was never perfected."

Tang Lingwumin said, "What a shame. To be honest, when faced with a mountain of legacy code, the best solution is to delete and rewrite it…"

Zheng Fa shook his head and sighed, "The problem is, I think he never managed to rewrite it…"

According to Han Lao's account, the new Heaven River method had eventually hit a bottleneck—Zheng Fa internally speculated that the Heaven River Venerable, like Tang Lingwumin, had sought to break through and rebuild.

But…

Perhaps he had broken through.

But he hadn't rebuilt.

"Actually, this new Heaven River method could be quite useful to us," the white old man said, "In the Three-Subsymbol Theory, we've never found the commonality of the third category of subsymbols."

"This may be because the creators differed, perhaps even borrowing from each other."

"If we could strip away the divine-name subsymbols, I'd like to see whether the third category still exists."

Zheng Fa, upon hearing this, thought for a moment of the spiritual energy traces he'd seen in the soil earlier.

"There doesn't seem to be any obvious pattern—I'll draw them for you later."

His memory was extraordinary; reproducing those traces was easy—but he held little hope.

Because those spiritual energy traces were far more chaotic than any glyph, and in Zheng Fa's view, they likely bore the influence of the Zhuxian Sword.

As the group discussed, the white old man's phone suddenly rang.

"Hello?"

"Mu Dao?"

"Wants to visit me? Hmm, hmm, let me ask."

After hanging up, everyone turned to look at the white old man.

"Remember that qi cultist I mentioned?"

"Mu Dao?" Tang Lingwumin asked curiously. "Is that his real name?"

"Changed it," the white old man chuckled, finding it amusing. "His surname is Tang. He went abroad early and took the English name Tom, then simply changed it to Mu Dao."

"That's quite coincidental."

"He just said he's coming to visit us," the white old man said, looking at Zheng Fa as if seeking his opinion.

Zheng Fa thought for a moment, then nodded. "We've gained some self-defense capability now; no need to hide. Let him come."

He had always intended to get the retirement home running.

Now that his methods were complete, if a crisis arose, he could at least protect the people before him.

"Alright, I'll tell him to come see what he wants," the white old man nodded. "I asked around the circle the other day—he's odd, but has a good reputation and solid academic ability—he seems to have done well overseas."

The white old man paused, then added, "He's apparently the chairman of some overseas Daojiaoxie Society…"

…

Zheng Fa paid little attention to this Tang Mu Dao.

His thoughts now focused more on the Spirit Wood Thunder.

"I've cultivated the Wind-Thunder Body; my control over magnetic fields has improved further—I now have some basis to study Spirit Wood Thunder."

But the white old man sighed lightly. "I've discussed Spirit Wood Thunder with Xiao Tian—we're completely at a loss."

"We all know it requires a magnetic field."

"How strong?"

"In which direction?"

"For how long?"

"Is it a constant field or a fluctuating one?"

"And this time, there's no paper to reference."

What the white old man said was precisely the greatest problem with Spirit Wood Thunder.

Leaving aside Zheng Fa's control over thunder arts.

They were completely blind to Spirit Wood Thunder—even hadn't touched it yet.

"I have an idea," Tang Lingwumin spoke up. "Could we start from the newly appeared spirit glyphs?"

"Hm?"

Zheng Fa was startled, then understood her meaning. "You mean, since those glyphs turned the pea sprouts into spirit plants, we study which ones caused magnetic field changes?"

Tang Lingwumin nodded timidly, speaking uncertainly. "I just thought of this while recording the glyphs—maybe these glyphs have nothing to do with electromagnetic fields?"

Zheng Fa nodded vigorously. "I think it's very likely!"

As soon as Tang Lingwumin spoke, he had another thought.

Ancient legends say the Fusang Tree was closely tied to the sun—and sunlight is fundamentally electromagnetic waves.

Although these glyphs could only turn pea sprouts into spirit plants,

at least now there was a direction!

…

Inside the lab.

Zheng Fa sat before hundreds of glyph diagrams, eyes closed, using his spiritual sense to guide his internal spiritual power along the energy traces depicted.

In the distance stood several precise magnetic field sensors.

Tang Lingwumin sat at a computer next door, watching the sensor signals on the screen.

Hundreds of glyphs—some had no effect at all, barely consuming his spiritual power.

Others had effects far too obvious!

"It's on fire!"

The white old man shouted, scrambling out the door without even glancing back at Zheng Fa.

Zheng Fa quickly threw a Frost Blade Glyph, extinguishing the flames. Fortunately, the lab's instruments suffered little damage.

"Not good… this is already the third accident."

Tang Lingwumin walked over from the next room, her face filled with despair.

Zheng Fa nodded.

This was his first time testing glyphs whose effects were unknown—he now realized how dangerous such experimentation was.

These three incidents were lucky; no one was hurt.

If it had been a powerful, wide-area glyph—the retirement home might have flown into the sky.

"Besides safety, there's another fatal problem," Tang Lingwumin said. "The electromagnetic changes—too frequent."

"You mean?" "Almost every talisman diagram generates a certain magnetic field."

Tang Lingwumin explained.

Zheng Fa was stunned, then immediately understood—almost all energy changes produce magnetic fields…

For heavenly tribulation thunder or cloud-rain thunder, they could easily dismiss minor fluctuations.

But Spirit Wood Thunder was different…

The electromagnetic changes it produced might be extremely subtle.

Then these hundreds of glyph trials couldn't rule out any of them…

No wonder Tang Lingwumin was so discouraged.

…

The group slowly walked out of the lab, all at a loss.

"Why not record every single one?"

The white old man suggested.

"Not impossible…" Zheng Fa frowned slightly. "But… it's not safe."

He wasn't worried about himself.

He was worried about Tang Lingwumin and the white old man and his wife.

And of course, the retirement home, which had only just begun to take shape.

"Yes, if the disturbances are too great, people down the mountain might notice something," the white old man also frowned. "No one knows what might happen."

Just as the group was stuck for ideas,

several trucks suddenly pulled up to the retirement home's gate.

"Did you buy more stuff again?"

Zheng Fa turned to ask Tang Lingwumin.

"No?"

The white old man rubbed his chin and suddenly asked Zheng Fa, "Do you know any other rich women?"

Tang Lingwumin's eyes narrowed instantly.

Zheng Fa felt a pang of guilt—he did know some…

But wait, they weren't even in this world!

"Professor Bai!" A truck driver outside shouted, apparently noticing how large and empty the retirement home was, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

"... his seems to be the rich woman you know."

Zheng Fa fell silent for a moment, then turned to the white old man.

Next to them, Teacher Tian gripped his shovel tightly, as if his hands were itching.

"Definitely the wrong person!" the old white-haired man hung up his phone.

"I heard clearly—he was calling you, oh, your phone's ringing again."

The old white-haired man scratched his head, dared not look at Teacher Tian, and dashed straight to the entrance of the nursing home, spoke a few words with the driver, then walked back.

When he returned, his face was full of confusion.

"What's going on? Who sent this?"

"That person I mentioned before—Tang Mudao."

"Him?" Zheng Fa was taken aback. "What did he send?"

"He… sent some medical equipment over."

"Huh?"

Zheng Fa froze, listening.

The old white-haired man seemed just as puzzled, pulled out his phone and dialed: "Hello? Mudao?"

"Yes, yes, we received it!"

"This is too much—you've spent too much!"

"No charge?"

"Oh, okay, let me ask."

The old white-haired man hung up, his expression strange.

"What's going on?"

"He says the medical equipment is free—perfect for our nursing home to use."

Zheng Fa blinked, then asked: "How did he know we didn't buy any of this?"

To be honest, the nursing home didn't rely on medical methods, and Zheng Fa had hardly purchased any such equipment at all.

"He didn't know," the old white-haired man shook his head. "He just sent it."

"…"

Zheng Fa turned to look at the delivery trucks.

The equipment on these trucks seemed to have dedicated personnel—likely here to assist with installation.

"What should we do?"

Zheng Fa thought for a moment, then shook his head.

First, the equipment was truly useless; even if they kept it, it would just be for show.

Second, he didn't know Tang Mudao well. Regardless of whether the equipment was free, it was certainly valuable.

Not necessary.

The old white-haired man understood Zheng Fa's meaning, nodded, and prepared to call back.

A SUV shot up to the nursing home entrance as if its rear end were on fire; out stepped a somewhat fat man who spoke a few words with the drivers, then waved toward the inside of the nursing home.

"Well, no need to call—he's here."

Only then did Zheng Fa realize this fat man was Tang Mudao.

He had imagined what this qigong fanatic might look like—someone eccentric, perhaps even dressed like a Daoist priest.

Instead, this man had a round face, a smiling mouth, and looked—rather slick.

Upon entering, he first nodded to the old white-haired man, then greeted Teacher Tian.

Turning around, he shook Zheng Fa's hand earnestly—and did not overlook Tang Lingwumin.

His smile was warm and friendly, yet utterly without offense.

Zheng Fa's mind was now certain—this man was neither scholar nor Daoist, but a smooth-talking businessman.

(End of Chapter)