Chapter 335: Borrowing a Technique Is Not Stealing

At 1 a. ., He Jiaqing entered Xiao Zhenggong's villa.

There were over a dozen guards on the first floor, none of whom noticed He Jiaqing.

He Jiaqing first went to the second floor, which contained guest rooms and a study; he searched thoroughly but found nothing.

He then went to the third floor, which had two bedrooms; after checking both, he still could not find what he sought.

Such a precious item could not possibly be on the first floor.

Where else could it be?

The basement?

He Jiaqing entered the basement; the first level held a wine cellar and a movie theater, but the item was not there.

There was a second basement level.

The second basement level contained a garage and a pump room; as he passed the pump room, He Jiaqing halted.

There was a hidden room.

Between the pump room and the garage lay a hidden room.

He Jiaqing ran his fingers along the wall for a moment and found a brick.

This brick was unusual; his fingers sensed its peculiar texture, and he knew it concealed a special mechanism.

The hidden door was here.

The mechanism was not hard to unlock, but might there be traps?

The item lay just beyond the door; even sealed, He Jiaqing could sense its overwhelming presence.

To enter rashly would surely be dangerous.

But for General Zhao Xiao, it was worth the risk!

He Jiaqing rubbed the brick for a moment, and the mechanism unlocked swiftly.

The hidden door opened slowly, revealing a long spear, tightly wrapped, standing at the center of the hidden chamber.

He Jiaqing approached the spear cautiously; he had heard of Zhao Xiao's methods and knew one misstep could bring grave injury.

"In sorrowful halls, who comes to ask for words?" the spear suddenly spoke.

He Jiaqing broke into a cold sweat.

For a weapon to speak was normal.

He had not expected her to recite poetry.

That too was normal; Zhao Xiao was not only a general but also a gifted poetess.

"Do not fear—I mean no harm."

According to the intelligence he gathered, Zhao Xiao, in spear form, was blind and deaf; knowing she could not hear, He Jiaqing still spoke softly to soothe her.

This was not to calm Zhao Xiao—it was to remind himself.

Never show the slightest malice; against the leader of the Traveling Cultivators, even a hint of ill intent is fatal.

"We met yesterday with a cup of wine; today my tongue commands ten thousand armies. Earth offers no crack, heaven no path—who are you, and who am I?" The spear spoke again, its presence intensifying.

He Jiaqing stepped back half a pace—not only from the pressure, but because he now saw powerful seals surrounding the spear.

These seals were difficult to break; he had originally planned to take the spear from the villa, but now he changed his approach.

"I only wish to borrow a single technique from you, just one,

I only want to borrow the Skill of Wind Born from Still Ground—no other techniques will I touch,

Of course, if you are willing to lend me the Skill of Ten Thousand Li Apart, I would be deeply grateful,

Your technique will weaken slightly, but it will be returned, and restored in time."

He Jiaqing touched the spear once, and its presence surged again.

The technique was acquired; He Jiaqing had no time to verify it—he immediately withdrew, turned, and fled—only to see over a dozen guards storming into the basement.

The brick had indeed concealed a trick.

The guards had arrived; Xiao Zhenggong would surely return soon.

This place was no longer safe; He Jiaqing had no desire to fight the guards—he vanished in a flash.

By the time the guards reacted, He Jiaqing was already outside the villa.

He had thought to escape undetected—when Xiao Zhenggong suddenly charged toward him and kicked.

Back so soon?

He Jiaqing dodged the kick; Xiao Zhenggong's shoe flew off his foot.

He Jiaqing dodged the shoe again; it struck the staircase, shattering the marble steps.

The shoelace detached itself and whipped through the air like a lash, striking He Jiaqing's back.

The blow hurt badly—he staggered, then vanished into the night.

Xiao Zhenggong chased two steps but could not catch him; he turned and rushed back into the basement.

Good—the spear was still there.

Xiao Zhenggong glared at the guards and cursed: "Useless!"

The guards dared not speak—not from fear of Xiao Zhenggong, but from terror of the spear.

A terrifying aura, like ten thousand charging soldiers, slammed into them, leaving them speechless.

Xiao Zhenggong stared at the spear and dared not approach.

The spear must be moved.

After all that effort to enter the archives, I'd barely read two pages—and this damned thief ruined everything tonight.

Who the hell is this thief? If I catch him, I'll tear him limb from limb.

…

He Jiaqing ran down the road, feeling his speed had not increased.

Did I borrow the wrong technique?

That shouldn't be.

I borrowed a basic technique; the Traveling Cultivators' basic techniques are only Wind Born from Still Ground and Avoiding Misfortune, Seeking Fortune.

When Xiao Zhenggong appeared suddenly, He Jiaqing made no prior prediction.

This proves he did not obtain Avoiding Misfortune, Seeking Fortune—and now Wind Born from Still Ground seems also unacquired.

Why?

…

Yuezhou, Chengyun Road.

Qin Minghui arrived at Rui Rong Textile Factory.

The factory had been abandoned for years; weeds grew thick around its walls.

The parents of two children wept hysterically at the entrance, desperately trying to rush inside, held back by police.

Qin Minghui showed his credentials, confirmed the situation—the two children were still inside the factory, their fate unknown.

All surrounding roads were sealed, but no one knew if the unknown creature inside would emerge.

Witnesses claimed the creature was a snake, lying on the ground, taller than a man, with two fangs larger than kitchen knives.

Kitchen knives?

Qin Minghui imagined the shape of a kitchen knife—it didn't seem to match snake fangs.

The witness was a beggar who had planned to sleep in the factory; two children had entered, playing noisily, and a quarrel broke out.

During the argument, the giant snake appeared; the beggar fled immediately, but the two children, slower to run, were snatched into the building.

According to this account, the children's chances of survival were extremely low.

The police asked Qin Minghui: "Should we dispatch search teams?"

Qin Minghui refused: "Non-professionals must not approach anomalies."

One officer asked: "Are you a professional?"

Another officer, having seen Qin Minghui's credentials, said: "He's an intern."

"I suggest you wait for your team leader."

Team leader Chen Zhangrui was not in Yuezhou—he was on his way back.

The nearest other team members were still over twenty minutes away by car.

BOOM!

A plume of green smoke rose from the factory—it seemed about to collapse.

The collapse itself was not the main concern; everyone feared the anomaly might burst out.

Qin Minghui said: "Everyone prepare to evacuate—I'll go in first to assess the situation."

The police urged: "I still say—wait for your team leader, at least for a full team member."

"I am an agent of the Dark Star Bureau. It is my duty—please cooperate."

Qin Minghui crossed the cordon, rifle in hand, and cautiously approached the factory; he reached the entrance but did not enter immediately—he took the outdoor staircase to the second floor.

The second-floor door had been removed; entering this way avoided the sound of opening a door.

In factories like this, the first floor typically extends to the ceiling; the second floor is usually a platform for operating special equipment, offering a clear view of the first floor.

These were all cases Qin Minghui had studied during his internship; as expected, the second floor was indeed a ringed platform clinging to the machinery.

Standing on the platform, Qin Minghui saw a bloated creature writhing beside a knitting machine, its body entangled in colorful, nearly rotted threads of yarn.

Qin Minghui calmed his breathing, suppressing his heartbeat as much as possible.

This was his first time witnessing an anomaly in person—he was terrified; the creature's size far exceeded anything he had ever imagined.

By sight, Qin Minghui made a rough estimate: the creature was about six meters long and two meters in diameter.

Though elongated, its proportions suggested it wasn't a snake—it was shorter and stockier than any snake.

The anomaly was entirely white, with regular black spots and sparse hairs scattered across its body.

The monster climbed onto another row of knitting machines. This time, Qin Minghui was certain: it had legs—short, thick legs, not densely packed but numbering over ten.

The creature turned its body, and Qin Minghui saw its "face."

It did have a pair of large fangs—but they weren't snake fangs.

These were insect fangs!

It was a silkworm. Aside from its enormous size, all its features matched the domestic silkworms Qin Minghui had seen as a child.

Through observation and comparison with known cases, Qin Minghui formed an initial judgment.

This type of anomaly was an insect larva, showing no human traits, acting purely on instinct, and generally classified as a relatively primitive anomaly.

Primitive anomalies had low intelligence. Like domestic silkworms, they had poor eyesight before pupating and likely possessed weak combat capability.

Of course, this was only an initial judgment. Captain Chen had once said that in Pulu Province, there was a type of anomaly called the "Cloak Moth Larva"—also in larval form—but it was not primitive. It had high intelligence and formidable combat power, capable of effortlessly wiping out a hundred-man fully armed squad.

Qin Minghui did not act rashly. Having locked onto the monster's position, he had already exceeded his mission's objective. Now, all he needed to do was wait quietly for backup.

Oo~

Crying!

Qin Minghui froze, turning toward the corner of the factory.

Something was moving there.

It was two balls of yarn—he'd initially mistaken them for spools on the knitting machines.

He listened closely to the crying—it was a child's voice.

The child was still alive!

They were trapped inside the yarn balls!

Qin Minghui gripped his pistol tightly. The situation had grown complicated.

Why had this silkworm placed the child inside the yarn balls?

Qin Minghui recalled silkworm behavior: they ate leaves and had no habit of using silk to trap prey.

Seeing the silk threads wrapped around its own body, could it be practicing spinning a cocoon?

Silkworms stop eating before spinning a cocoon—that was the most optimistic conclusion Qin Minghui could draw.

Of course, this was an anomaly; he couldn't fully apply domestic silkworm logic to it.

After waiting over ten minutes, the silkworm kept winding yarn around itself, showing no other intent.

A message came through his phone: colleagues had arrived near the factory.

Qin Minghui had just sighed in relief when the massive silkworm writhed toward the factory corner and lunged at the two children tangled in silk.

With three pairs of short, thick legs, it seized the struggling children, raised half its body, and opened its pair of fangs.

It was identical to the posture a silkworm used when munching mulberry leaves.

Without hesitation, Qin Minghui raised his pistol, aimed at the insect, and fired ten rounds, emptying the magazine.

The pistol issued by the Dark Star Bureau to Brawler-class operatives was extremely powerful and could be precisely controlled by the Brawler's own focus.

All ten shots struck the "silkworm's" head. Clearly, it was in pain.

Pain like being slapped ten times on the forehead.

The silkworm dropped the children and, driven by instinct, charged straight at Qin Minghui—the one who had just fired.

The second-floor platform collapsed. Qin Minghui was launched into the air, slammed into the ceiling, then crashed onto the floor.

This was not something taught in textbooks or practiced in training grounds.

It was like a rollercoaster—except he had no safety restraints.

When he hit the ground, Qin Minghui felt his internal organs had shifted out of place.

His pistol landed far away.

Qin Minghui tried to reach for it, but he couldn't stand up.

The massive "silkworm" writhed toward him.

Qin Minghui picked up an iron pipe from the floor and hurled it at the "silkworm."

As a Brawler, he could accurately strike the silkworm's head.

But he lacked higher-tier strength—the force was insufficient. The pipe didn't wound the silkworm.

The silkworm swept its body, wrapping around Qin Minghui and constricting tightly. His vision blurred.

Creak—creak~

Bones groaned under pressure.

Qin Minghui clung desperately to his Brawler's innate resilience, but he was already at his limit.

The two children were crying.

Qin Minghui struggled to shout toward them: "Run!"

The slightly older child broke free from the silk and tried to flee—but tripped over the threads.

The other child only cried, too terrified to even stand.

The silkworm spread its short, thick insect legs toward Qin Minghui.

Qin Minghui clawed at the silkworm's body with his fingernails—his only possible counterattack.

Bang! Bang!

Two gunshots rang out in succession.

A thin figure dashed into the factory.

Dengbao had arrived!

He fired multiple rounds at the "silkworm." Enraged, the silkworm released Qin Minghui, spun around, and wrapped itself around Dengbao.

Slish!

"Dengbao" burst out from inside the silkworm's body, swapped magazines, and kept firing.

The "silkworm" turned again and wrapped itself around him—Dengbao escaped once more.

After over ten minutes of maneuvering, Tangyuan rushed into the workshop, holding a pen, approaching the "silkworm," and flung a vast cloud of ink.

The ink transformed into countless characters.

Dengbao shouted: "Run!"

Before he finished speaking, the characters—large and small, friend or foe—attacked everyone present.

PS: Tangyuan's real name is You Xuehan, the team's secretary.

(End of Chapter)