Chapter 2: Mending Scrolls, First Display of Skill

The midnight downpour hammered the city center, washing over the cracked, mottled cobblestones. Cold winds tangled with the rain, slicing through Lin Wan’s thin coat like thousands of needle-thin spears. She clutched the tattered family registry to her chest, refusing to break stride as she plowed through the muddy alleyways until she stopped before the rusted iron gate of the Scrap Yard.

Rainwater dripped from her hair, hitting the ground with a crisp, fragmented rhythm that couldn’t drown out the cold, defiant light in her eyes. Faint, murky light leaked from inside the door, accompanied by rough, grating breaths. A Tu, wrapped in a smelly, old cotton-padded jacket that reeked of tobacco, was squatting in a corner, flicking through a pile of scrap copper and broken iron.

Hearing the footsteps, he didn’t even look up. He just let out a lazy, gravelly grunt, his voice sounding like sandpaper rubbing against stone.

"Took you long enough," A Tu said, his tone dripping with the impatient cynicism of a street hustler. He stood up and dusted off his hands. "I was waiting so long my flowers withered. I thought the Miss Lin was actually planning to keep this busted book as a family heirloom."

Lin Wan didn't answer immediately. She slowly pulled the rain-soaked registry from her arms and placed it gently on the dust-covered wooden table. The moment her fingertips touched the coarse paper, a bizarre chill shot up from her fingers to her heart—the old, familiar pain of her chronic, frail constitution acting up.

However, in that very instant, a cold, mechanical notification blared in her mind, shattering the silence of the rainy night. A system interface unfolded before her eyes, rows of golden characters floating up to guide her next move.

Lin Wan took a deep breath, inhaling the mix of rain and the moldy air. She opened her eyes. The dead-still calm that usually lived in her gaze was now fueled by a cold, quiet fire.

Following the system’s guidance for the [Book Soul Resonance] skill, Lin Wan reached into a metal box nearby and grabbed a pinch of fine copper powder. Under the dim light, the powder glinted with a cold metallic sheen, carrying a faint, metallic tang. She twisted her wrist, used the tiny tweezers to pick up the copper dust, and precisely filled in the missing strokes on the registry.

Every stroke felt like patching a piece of broken history. Her fingertips were cold, but a strange, warm sensation began to bloom—that was the sign of Literary Qi being activated. As the repair progressed, the previously blurred characters sharpened, and an invisible ripple surged from the depths of the pages, seeping into her meridians like a gentle stream.

Lin Wan felt the stagnating cold in her body starting to loosen. The bone-deep chill that had plagued her like a tumor was noticeably easing under the wash of the Literary Qi. She froze for a second, her hands not stopping their work, but her mind was a storm of shock. Was this the power of a cheat ability?

Repairing ancient texts wasn't just about fixing the material; it was a tempering of the soul. She glanced out the window. The rain was dying down, and a faint fish-belly gray was tinting the distant skyline. Inside the Scrap Yard, amid the rot, a fresh spark of vitality was quietly taking root.

A Tu had been dozing off, but he suddenly snapped his cloudy eyes open, his gaze locked tightly on Lin Wan’s movements. He noticed her pale face slowly flushing with color and her hunched spine straightening up. The changes were subtle, but for someone like A Tu, who lived on the streets and was hyper-sensitive to scents and auras, it was enough to make him wary.

He squinted, his nostrils flaring as he tried to catch that faint, elusive scent of old books in the air. At the same time, the urgent hiss of tires echoed outside. Several unremarkable trucks pulled up to the entrance, and a bunch of guys in ragged work uniforms piled in, looking frantic.

Usually, this crew only scrounged for e-waste and scrap iron. Today, they were eyeing the seemingly worthless, obscure ancient texts and torn scrolls, offering prices that would make anyone’s jaw drop. A Tu’s mouth twitched; his suspicion grew thicker. Could this fallen noble lady really be pulling the strings?

He crept forward, his soles scraping lightly against the floor. His eyes never left Lin Wan’s back, watching her like a vulture waiting for its prey to slip up.

Lin Wan sensed the movement behind her but didn’t turn around. Her consciousness dove into the [Appraisal Pervasion] ability, her eyes flushing with a layer of faint gold. Through that golden haze, the mountain of junk in the Scrap Yard became transparent.

In her enhanced vision, the old maps that looked like scrap paper, the broken stone rubbings, and even the torn fragments thrown in the corners all revealed the hidden rune tracks underneath. One old map, swollen from rainwater and looking like a stack of ordinary waste paper, stood out especially.

It lay quietly at the edge of the junk pile. Its surface was stained and tattered, but through her Pervision, she could see a precise treasure map sealed in the layers, the runes flowing with a faint mark specific to a certain high-class lineage. A very faint, satisfied curve appeared on Lin Wan’s lips. She had a plan.

She deliberately reached out and tossed the map carelessly, letting it get mixed into a pile of unidentifiable junk. The motion was casual, almost negligent. As she turned, she bumped into A Tu, who had stiffened up with half his body poking out. Their eyes met in the middle of the air, and the tension snapped taut.

"Uncle A Tu," Lin Wan spoke first, her voice so calm it might have been an illusion that the tension had ever existed. "Are you having some interest in me?"

A Tu blinked, then broke into his signature slick, greasy grin, rubbing his hands together. "What do you mean? I’m just worried about the Miss Lin’s health. Seeing your complexion improve makes my old heart feel at ease."

Lin Wan didn’t expose him; she just gave a faint smile. "Good to know. That stack of 'waste paper' I threw earlier—if you’re interested, feel free to take it and research it."

A Tu’s eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of interest jumping in his head, but he quipped, "Waste paper? That stuff could even buy a bowl of noodles?" Lin Wan looked him straight in the eyes, speaking word by word: "It’s more than noodles. It’s what will make that Shen Family scoundrel look like a fool at the family council."

The line hit A Tu like a hammer, freezing the smile on his face. He couldn’t keep up the act.

A Tu dropped his swaggering attitude. His gaze turned sharp and scrutinizing, sizing Lin Wan up and down. He stepped forward, picked up the "waste paper" from the junk pile, and rubbed his rough fingers along the edges of the pages, trying to find the trick. But all he saw were water stains and mold spots. Nothing.

He looked up, his gaze like a knife. "Say that again. What’s this got to do with the Shen Family?"

Lin Wan walked to the table, sat down slowly, and kept her posture relaxed. "This is the lost treasure map from the academy where Gu Qinghan is a student. Hidden in it is the crucial code our Lin Family left behind years ago."

"If Shen Zhan gets his hands on it, he’ll use it to crush the last bit of dignity our family has. But in my hands? It’s a sharp sword for counterattack."

A Tu’s pupils contracted, nearly dropping the map. He knew the Shen Family’s power, and he understood the weight of a genius like Gu Qinghan in the academy. The value behind this scrap of a map was way beyond imagination. He stared at Lin Wan, greed and fear flickering in his eyes. "You little... no, you girl, just how many cards are you holding?"

Lin Wan didn’t answer directly. She stood up, picked up the copper box on the table, and slid it toward A Tu. "I only have the ability to appraise. That’s it. But I can tell you which torn scrolls contain lost martial techniques, or which old books hide commercial recipes. This Scrap Yard’s business is booming because of information gaps. I’m the one providing that info."

A Tu stared at the copper box, light dancing in his eyes. He knew that in this High Martial Era, knowledge was power and channels were wealth. If he could partner with Lin Wan, this shabby Scrap Yard might actually come back from the dead, even becoming a base to counter the Black Dragon’s influence in the Underground Combat Arena.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to get restless, and spoke slowly. "We can cooperate. But you need to show me your skills. Besides this map, what else can you figure out?"

Lin Wan pointed to the pile of wet scraps in the corner. "There’s a fragment in there with a modified body-tempering recipe. Low cost, but the effect lets ordinary martial artists break through bottlenecks. Sell it to the household managers of families who are desperate for breakthroughs, and you can get at least ten thousand Credit Points."

A Tu sucked in a breath through his nose. Ten thousand! For his Scrap Yard, that was a massive cash flow. The way he looked at Lin Wan changed completely—from doubt and disdain to a complex mix of scrutiny and respect. He rubbed his hands, the tension easing from his face as he gave a rather friendly smile. "Alright. You’re interesting, Miss Noble.

So, me, A Tu, is going to gamble. I’ll raise you fallen lady as a partner." He paused, and his tone shifted, the smile becoming slightly enigmatic. "But by industry rules, we need to settle the fees first."

Lin Wan’s brow furrowed; alarm bells rang in her head. A Tu was cunning, but usually straightforward. Suddenly demanding a high fee meant he had an agenda. She said calmly, "Fees? We just reached a cooperation intention."

A Tu stood up, hands bracing on the edge of the table, leaning in with overwhelming pressure. "Appraisal and channel fee: thirty thousand. It’s the rule. No money, no deal."

Lin Wan watched A Tu’s bureaucratic demeanor and ran the numbers in her head. Thirty thousand Credit Points wasn’t a small sum for her now, but it would put her in the passive. Paying easily would mean being tied to his leash; refusing risked losing her only shelter.

She needed A Tu’s influence to wash her identity clean, but she couldn’t let him hold the reins. She fell silent for a moment, tapping her fingers on the table. The crisp *tink-tink-tink* echoed sharply in the tense air. A Tu watched her fingers, waiting for her final answer.

Lin Wan looked up, her gaze calm and deep. She threw out a new condition—one that would make A Tu’s heart race, but would perfectly bypass that high fee. The rain had stopped. The first ray of sunlight squeezed through the gap in the broken roof, falling on the piece of paper with the price between them. Dust motes danced in the beam of light, witnessing this silent game of chess.