Chapter Ten: The Quest for Toast

“I refuse.” Lin Yilin rejected without a second thought.

“Ah! We haven’t even discussed the terms yet…” The person opposite her was somewhat stunned.

Even though Lin Yilin had a small firm, such one-person offices frequently appeared and vanished in the city. Banmu Law Firm, a medium-sized office, had already achieved relatively stable operations, having defeated over ninety percent of other firms. Moreover, Lin Yilin was personally recruited by their boss’s direct orders, showing how much they valued her. No matter what, it was better than running a solo practice.

“Unless Banmu Law Firm merges under Zero One Law Firm, there’s no question of any benefits,” Lin Yilin declared bluntly, clearly refusing.

“Damn, you little woman, how dare you turn your nose up at us!” Someone on the other side lost their composure and cursed outright.

Lin Yilin ignored them and turned to leave. When they tried to follow, she immediately turned back, drew a pistol from her bag, and aimed it at them.

Zheng Fan was speechless.

Wow.

He had been curious to see what this mysterious young client was capable of. Lin Yilin was known to be sharp, able to use talismanic papers and supernatural charms, and her office often contained a blend of Eastern and Western mystical artifacts.

Zheng Fan’s impression of Lin Yilin was that of a self-taught little sorceress.

Yet her immediate choice was to draw a gun.

Impressive. Whether or not it was the best solution, it was certainly effective.

The city was modern, ethnically diverse, with official languages mainly Chinese and English, and a degree of freedom comparable to what Zheng Fan remembered from America in his past life.

So it was quite natural for a young woman to draw a gun for self-defense.

Banmu Law Firm’s people dared not persist further. Lin Yilin put the gun back into her bag but did not lower her hand, then turned and walked away leisurely.

“Do you have a gun permit?” Zheng Fan asked as he followed.

“Hm? Why would I need that?” Lin Yilin was puzzled. “Isn’t having a gun in hand the best proof of owning one?”

Though Zheng Fan felt her idea of a gun permit differed somewhat from his, on reflection, it made sense.

“What if they really try to make trouble after you refuse their offer?” Zheng Fan asked.

Lin Yilin’s tone grew lighter. “Isn’t that why I have you, Mr. Illusion?”

That matter was settled. They weren’t here for trivial disputes but to find the perfect piece of biting toast.

They arrived at an alley by the street.

“When I asked the clerk, she said this was where they discarded bread for the homeless.”

Indeed, crumbs and the faint scent of pastries mixed with unpleasant odors were evident.

At a large cardboard box in the corner, a homeless man was rummaging through.

Seeing someone approach, he looked over with hopeful eyes, especially at the bag in Lin Yilin’s hand. These homeless folk were familiar with the bakery’s logo.

Moved, Lin Yilin impulsively drew her gun.

“Ah! I mean no harm! Don’t shoot me!” The homeless man was terrified and fled deep into the alley.

Lin Yilin and Zheng Fan stood there awkwardly.

After a moment, Lin Yilin explained sheepishly, “Uh, my hand was on the gun the whole time — it was an accident… I was just going to share some toast.”

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Zheng Fan narrowed his eyes.

“No way.”

“Your character is far more complicated than I thought.” How could someone act so darkly even in such a situation?

Lin Yilin feigned ignorance, returned the gun to her bag, then put on gloves and began searching through the cardboard box.

In the end, she found nothing, threw off the gloves, stomped on them a few times, then produced a small bottle of grayish powder, sprinkled it onto the gloves, sealed the bottle, and stomped hard again.

She stared down at the trampled gloves intently.

“...What is this? Performance art?”

“A way to draw inspiration. This ash is my own concoction, material sourced from the Black World,” Lin Yilin said without breaking eye contact but remained engaged with Zheng Fan.

After a while, a gust of wind blew some of the ash off the gloves.

Suddenly, Lin Yilin had an idea. She pulled out an ancient compass with one hand and sprinkled some ash onto it with the other.

Zheng Fan saw the compass as if shrouded in a shadow.

It resembled the Black World he had seen upon arriving here, as if a layer of that world was projected onto the compass.

Then, the compass began to spin.

“Toast... toast... toast...” Lin Yilin murmured, watching the rotation.

When the compass steadied, she said, “Got it.”

“How did you get it?” Zheng Fan said he didn’t understand.

“By using a method to overlap the Black World with a medium, temporarily borrowing the Black World’s power of illusions. It’s not hard to learn but depends on one’s aptitude. Once mastered, each person’s way of channeling the power differs. Skilled ones can even manually create illusionary objects this way,” Lin Yilin explained.

“Just illusions?” Zheng Fan keenly caught the key point.

Lin Yilin understood his thoughts. “Illusions aren’t easy to create, at least not by myself. But with patience and preparation, it is theoretically possible.”

Zheng Fan felt she was hiding something in this regard.

But he didn’t press; they had only just met, and it was unrealistic to know everything so soon.

“Can I touch it?” Zheng Fan reached out.

The compass, veiled in shadow from his perspective, had a strange allure, somewhat like when he first met Chen Wen, who was ensnared by illusions. Perhaps it was worth a try.

Lin Yilin didn’t refuse and handed over the compass.

As their hands met, Zheng Fan firmly grasped the compass, still warm from Lin Yilin’s touch.

“It really works…” Lin Yilin was somewhat surprised too.

“If that’s the case, then I guess I won’t eat after all.” Zheng Fan’s mind raced, wondering if he could somehow imbue food with buffs so he could touch and eat normally.

But then, considering Lin Yilin’s bizarre ritual, he thought better of it.

Who really likes food trod on by a beautiful girl and sprinkled with ash?

Surely not.

“Sorry, I haven’t yet figured out such advanced rituals,” Lin Yilin admitted, aware of Zheng Fan’s thoughts.

Zheng Fan waved it off and looked at the compass. “Let’s get down to business. At least if we find that thing, I can actually eat it.”

Compared to unrealistic illusions, a biting toast was more tangible.

Lin Yilin lit a lighter, cleaned up her ritual site, then carried the compass and followed its guidance.

“This is too easy, finding the target like this,” Zheng Fan said along the way.

It was only slightly better than the typical charlatans who fiddled with trinkets and claimed to foresee the future.

“That’s because the target is truly easy to find. Could there really be a second perfect biting toast in this world?”

“Indeed. There’s absolutely no second perfect biting toast in the world.”

It was a flawless-looking biting toast after all.

Zheng Fan was instantly convinced.

They passed through alleys, stepping over many homeless people asleep in the shadows, and glimpsed underground gangs conducting some trades in corners.

This was the norm in the gray district.

Though Lin Yilin bore a scar on her face, she was still youthful and beautiful, and her presence in such a place was conspicuously out of place, attracting some stares.

The compass led them to a wall.

“Found it,” Zheng Fan said.

“This should be the place, but why here?” Lin Yilin looked at the building. “This is the territory of the Black Scorpion Gang on East Ding Road.”

“A gang?”

“Yeah, a relatively minor one with some ties to Banmu Law Firm. This is their newly acquired property, and recently there have been rumors they’ve been involved in drug smuggling.”

Lin Yilin rattled off information about the building as if she knew it by heart.

“How do you know so much?”

“I just pay attention to my surroundings. Looks like we need to go in, but it’ll be tricky. My personal abilities might end here, Mr. Illusion.” Lin Yilin glanced around; she had been lingering here too long, and Black Scorpion Gang lookouts had gathered nearby.

“Then it looks like it’s my turn. Logging in.” Zheng Fan suddenly vanished beside Lin Yilin.

The young girl’s shadow split into two.