Chapter 2: The Embroidered Guards Come Calling

Wind whipped dried leaves against the rotting window lattice, creating a rustling sound that echoed like funeral bells. Lin Xiao held the cold copper coin between his fingers, his gaze deep and unblinking. Through the splintered wooden slats, he stared out into the thick, impenetrable darkness beyond the door.

"Raiding a house of demons?"

The corner of his mouth twitched into a cold, sharp smirk. There was no panic in his eyes, only the icy, playful contempt a hunter feels when prey steps into a trap. The Jinyiwei had moved fast. Someone was clearly pushing from the shadows. It could have been that old fox Yang Tinghe's spy, or maybe Emperor Tianshun’s suspicious nature had finally boiled over.

It didn't matter.

Lin Xiao flicked the copper coin into his sleeve and stood up, straightening the rough hemp clothes he wore. In the Chongzhen era, staying low was the baseline for staying alive. But right now, he needed a bit of edge to tear through this hypocritical calm.

He walked to the table but didn’t touch the cold, congealed porridge. Instead, he pinched a Silver Coin from his cuff. His finger traced the crisp pattern on the metal while the System interface flickered up in his mind, a cold blue light reflecting off his emotionless pupils.

【Reverse Logistics】 function ready.

Cooldown: 2 hours 45 minutes remaining.

If he sent this Silver Coin through the System’s special channel to a future auction, he’d net three hundred Historical Coins. Not a fortune, but enough to kickstart the first cross-time procurement run, paving the way for his next move.

Thump. Thump. Thump!

Three dull knocks shattered the dead silence of the night. They were followed by a rough shout: “Search order from the throne! The Eastern Depot is waiting. Jinyiwei Chief of a Hundred, Chen Jiu, is here! Open the door!”

The voice carried undeniable authority, yet there was a faint, unnoticeable hesitation beneath it. Lin Xiao chuckled internally. Chen Jiu was a blunt, loyal fool who lacked tact. He was likely just a scapegoat sent up the chain to “run the numbers” and take the fall if things went wrong.

Lin Xiao raised his hand and slowly pushed open the creaking door.

Night wind rushed in. Chen Jiu stood outside with two Jinyiwei subordinates, torchlight flickering and illuminating his tense face. Dressed in flying fish uniform with a blade at his waist, his hand rested on the hilt as his eyes swept the dim interior with wary intensity.

“Shopkeeper Lin,” Chen Jiu’s voice was low, slightly raspy. “A private residence hoarding contraband. Disturbing the Imperial Court. Whoever practices sorcery will be punished according to the law.”

Lin Xiao leaned against the doorframe, hands behind his back, looking as relaxed as if he were drinking tea in his own backyard. “Chief Chen, your honor is an immense privilege. But may I ask how I disturbed the throne?”

Chen Jiu ignored the deflection. His gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, swept across the empty table inside. “I received intel that strange scents drift from this place often, and ghost lights flicker at midnight. Search it.”

The two subordinates moved in immediately, their actions crude. One began rifling through boxes and cabinets, while the other kept Lin Xiao under tight watch, ready to subdue him at a moment’s notice.

Lin Xiao didn’t resist. In fact, he stepped aside, clearing the path to the inner room. He was being too cooperative, which made Chen Jiu’s brow furrow. A common folk would have been on their knees begging or screaming in fear. This calm attitude felt unnatural, distant, and unsettling.

Soon, the searcher let out a sharp cry.

“Chief! There’s something here!”

Chen Jiu’s expression hardened. He strode into the inner room. The open box didn’t hold gold or jewels. Instead, it was neatly stacked with rows of silver rectangular bars, and several tightly sealed “strange boxes” that gave off a faint, pleasing scent.

A peculiar aroma filled the air. It wasn’t like common spices, but it was incredibly captivating, invigorating anyone who breathed it in.

Chen Jiu reached out and picked up a packet of silver-grey foil. It was a pack of compressed biscuits in aluminum packaging that Lin Xiao had specifically left behind. He squinted, inspecting it closely, then turned to Lin Xiao, his eyes full of suspicion.

“Shopkeeper Lin, what is this?”

Lin Xiao’s face was a mask of indifference. “Reporting to the Chief, this is a Western tribute item known as ‘Iron-Wrapped Rations.’ Sourced from overseas merchant ships. It’s extremely rare. Most people are lucky to see it once in a lifetime.”

Western tribute?

Chen Jiu’s suspicion grew. Trade between the Great Ming and the West was limited. Even when tributes arrived, they were usually porcelain or fabric. Who ever heard of metal-wrapped food? Plus, this “iron leaf” felt smooth to the touch—neither gold nor silver, and definitely not from any official Ming kiln.

“Tribute items require verification documents,” Chen Jiu said coldly. “Shopkeeper Lin, can you produce proof?”

Lin Xiao sighed, looking as helpless as if dealing with a difficult neighbor. “Chief Chen, the documents were lost in transit. Ruffian pirates stole most of them. This is the only surviving piece I managed to haul to the capital. Since there’s no proof, we can just sell it at market price. Surely the Jinyiwei aren’t about to force a sale and rob me of it?”

Before Chen Jiu could respond, Lin Xiao pulled a silver ingot from his robe and placed it gently on the table. The silver was of superb quality, shining brightly—clearly fresh from a major bank.

“One hundred taels,” Lin Xiao pointed to the packs of foil-wrapped biscuits and some other modern plastic water bottles hidden in a corner. “Buy just these items. The rest are Western curiosities. If the Chief doesn’t recognize them, feel free to hand them over to the Eastern Depot for inspection. I won’t stop you.”

Chen Jiu stared at the hundred taels of silver, his throat bobbing. He was Jinyiwei, not a common thief, but a hundred taels wasn’t chump change, and Lin Xiao had a point. If these were demonic artifacts, seizing them by force would break protocol. If they were tribute, buying them was doing Lin Xiao a favor.

More importantly, the scent was genuinely enticing. As a career soldier, he was used to hard marches and was naturally curious about food that could cure hunger and smelled so distinct.

“Deal.” Chen Jiu grabbed the silver but suddenly pressed down on one of the foil packs. “I’ll take this one too. To make it a round number, two hundred taels.”

A glint of sharp insight flashed in Lin Xiao’s eyes, barely noticeable. Chen Jiu was greedy, but that very greed created an opening for him to exploit.

“Fine. Two hundred taels, not a copper short,” Lin Xiao pushed the silver over, his tone flat. “But once you take it, it’s your property. If the government asks about this batch later, it’s already been sold as private property. I, Lin Xiao, am no longer involved.”

Chen Jiu took the silver, his fingers trembling slightly. Was it the cold wind, or the unease in his gut? He weighed the ingots, nodded in satisfaction, and turned to his men. “Bag it. Take it with us.”

At that moment, Lin Xiao suddenly spoke up. “Hold on.”

Chen Jiu stopped, looking back. Lin Xiao’s expression was calm, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “Chief Chen has walked a long way and must be hungry. What’s wrapped in this foil is ‘Golden Crisp Biscuits.’ One bite and you won’t need to eat for three days. If you don’t keep it now, you’ll regret it tomorrow when the price goes up.”

Chen Jiu’s face stiffened, then he let out a cold snort. “Clever little trick, Shopkeeper Lin. You think a small kindness will keep the Jinyiwei quiet?”

“It’s not a small kindness,” Lin Xiao smiled slightly. The smile looked particularly deep under the dim yellow lamp. “It’s a reminder. The Eastern Depot likely won’t let this slide just because you took the silver. If the ‘Western tribute’ explanation doesn’t hold up under the Eastern Depot’s thorough questioning, the Chief might face the charge of ‘collusion with the enemy.’”

The words were like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing Chen Jiu’s last shred of luck. His face turned grim, his killing intent sharpening as he stared at Lin Xiao.

“Are you threatening me?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Lin Xiao bowed slightly, his posture respectful. “I’m just trying to find you a way out before I draw a conclusion. If the Eastern Depot investigates later, you just state that the goods were sold to the Jinyiwei through a formal silver transaction. You’re clear. As for the Eastern Depot side...”

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. “...maybe there’s still a sliver of hope left.”

Chen Jiu fell silent for a moment. Finally, he took a deep breath and clutched the pack of foil biscuits tightly in his hand. He knew Lin Xiao wasn’t bluffing. Su Wan was in charge of the Eastern Depot, and her methods were vicious. If they really pinned the cap of “private collusion with the Japanese” on him, his head would roll.

“I’ll report this matter honestly,” Chen Jiu said, his voice cold and hard. “But Shopkeeper Lin, you’d better pray your explanation holds water. Otherwise, the Eastern Depot’s knives don’t have eyes.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Lin Xiao straightened up, watching Chen Jiu leave.

Only when the figures vanished around the alley corner did Lin Xiao finally exhale a heavy breath. His hand clenched in his sleeve, nails digging into his palm.

This move had solved the immediate crisis, but it also exposed him completely. Su Wan must have her eyes on this spot now. The next step would be the real battle.

He turned and walked back inside, closing the door and barring it.

The room was silent, save for the stack of unsearched modern supplies sitting quietly in the corner. Plastic bottles, metal cans, even a small multi-function lighter. In the Great Ming’s eyes, these things were demonic artifacts. Right now, they were his biggest weakness, and his strongest weapon.

Lin Xiao walked to the window and pushed it open a crack, looking across at the opposite rooftops.

The night was deep, the moonlight cold and clear.

He noticed a shadow flash briefly on the roof of the abandoned house across the way. It moved extremely fast. Without the System’s enhanced vision, a normal person wouldn’t have caught a thing.

"They’re here."

Cold glinted in Lin Xiao’s eyes.

Eastern Depot agents, moving like shadows attached to him.

He wasn’t panicked. Instead, he picked up the multi-function lighter from the table. Click. The sharp mechanical sound rang out in the silence. A flame flared, illuminating the sharp lines of his profile.

"The faster you come, the further I’ll run," he muttered to himself, a hint of self-deprecating ruthlessness in his voice.

In this chaotic age, mercy was a luxury. Power was the only hard truth.

He turned toward the back courtyard, where there was an unassuming entrance to an underground cavern. The parallel space storage zone built by the System was now open to him. In the preservation vault for ten thousand tons of supplies, food, medicine, and even weapons from the future waited quietly to be awakened.

And tonight, the Eastern Depot’s probe was just the prologue to a much bigger storm.

Lin Xiao stepped into the shadows, his figure instantly merging with the darkness.

Moments later, the courtyard was empty. Only the old wooden door creaked softly in the night wind, as if humming an ancient song of survival and plunder.

Far away, inside a residence with vermilion-lacquered doors, a man in black robes with a sinister face stood by the window. In his hand, he tossed a copper badge engraved with the characters for “Eastern Depot.” His gaze pierced the layers of night, locking precisely onto the courtyard where Lin Xiao was located.

“Investigate.”

He spat out the word, icy and bone-chilling, like a winter frost.

“Dig it up until the bottom falls out.”