763: Chapter 758 Let it go

"A fraud? How could anyone casually give away millions?"

He Jingzhong didn't speak.

He bent down, picked up his phone, and stared intently at the text message.

He then tightly clutched the priceless 'Yellow Ripe Fragrance' in his hand.

The sharp edges of the wood dug painfully into his palm.

But this pain let him know that this was not only not a dream, but the greatest opportunity of his life.

"A Hai."

He Jingzhong suddenly spoke.

His voice was no longer hoarse or dejected.

It carried the spirit he had when he was a dominant figure in Fragrance Prefecture decades ago.

"Get me two steamed buns."

"I want to eat my fill."

"Tomorrow... I have work to do."

Two fires burned in his eyes.

It was the ambition of dead ashes rekindling.

The next morning.

In the southern suburbs of Fragrance Prefecture, the mist had not yet completely dissipated.

The large iron gate of 'Rosemary Dell' was rusty, and a notice from the Bank demanding repayment was still pasted on it.

He Jingzhong was wearing a washed-out gray Zhongshan suit, his hair meticulously combed.

Although the circles under his eyes were still dark, his back was ramrod straight.

He carried a severely worn canvas tool bag on his back.

Inside were his treasured incense-making tools: a silver knife, a jade grinder, a bronze censer, and mica sheets.

Every piece was an antique.

He stood at the main gate, frequently checking his watch.

Seven fifty-five AM.

A black mercedes-benz S-Class sedan silently cut through the morning mist and stopped at the entrance.

This was the car that Shen Yan had hastily arranged for Chen Guangke to dispatch from the Fragrance Prefecture Branch Company the previous night.

The car door opened.

Shen Yan stepped out.

He wore a simple black windbreaker and a pair of hiking boots suitable for walking.

He didn't have the air of a big boss; instead, he looked like an explorer preparing to enter the mountains.

"Mr. Shen!"

He Jingzhong quickly hurried over, even attempting to reach out to open the car door for Shen Yan.

Shen Yan waved his hand.

"I don't observe such empty courtesies."

He looked up at the plantation covering dozens of acres.

Weeds were rampant.

Many precious spice trees looked withered due to lack of care.

But in Shen Yan's eyes, or rather, in the system's vision,

This seemingly abandoned garden was filled everywhere with golden specks of light.

That was the scent of wealth.

Especially deep within the garden, there was a thick, inerasable purple halo.

"Lead the way."

Shen Yan started walking.

"To the place we need to find."

He Jingzhong paused for a moment.

"Sir... don't you need a map?"

The place where the mutated Dragon Saliva Vine grew was extremely hidden, located behind a field of chaotic rocks.

Even after walking in the garden for decades, he would need considerable effort to find it.

Shen Yan didn't look back.

He walked straight toward the southwest.

His steps were firm, as if he had walked this path hundreds of times before.

"Plants have spirits."

Shen Yan's voice came from ahead.

"They are calling me."

He Jingzhong followed behind, looking at Shen Yan's retreating figure, his reverence deepening another layer.

Truly a master.

They passed through a dense cinnamon forest and skirted around moss-covered rocks.

The scene before them suddenly opened up.

It was a small, sunken valley.

The vegetation around it was strange; none of it grew upward, but rather spread along the ground.

The air was filled with a faint, indescribable fishy sweetness.

And right in the center of the valley,

A vine, with a bizarre grayish-white exterior, coiled on the rocks like a dead snake,

Was lying quietly there.

Its leaves had long since fallen off, leaving only dry branches.

It appeared completely lifeless.

If one didn't look closely, they might mistake it for a pile of firewood.

He Jingzhong hurried over, knelt before the vine, his eyes fervent.

"It's this one..."

"Thirty years, I thought it had died."

"I didn't expect it was really just sleeping."

Shen Yan stood three meters away.

In his mind, the system's data stream was scrolling wildly.

[Target confirmed: Mutated Dragon Saliva Vine (Dormant Period)]

[Activity detected: 12%]

[Contains special components: Neuronal Repair Enzyme, Memory Messenger Substance, floating dawn Resin]

[Collection suggestion: Must be fumigated by burning incense of over a hundred years of aged Zhenxiang to awaken its activity, then the resin must be cut with a jade knife.]

Shen Yan glanced at He Jingzhong.

"Master He."

"Begin."

"Let me see if the skill worth three million yuan is actually worth it."

He Jingzhong's hands were trembling slightly.

He looked at the sack Shen Yan pulled from the trunk of the car.

The mouth of the sack was open.

Inside were dark red wooden strips, all cut to the thickness of a thumb.

A pungent, spicy aroma, so strong it was almost choking, instantly overwhelmed the original musty smell in the valley.

"This... this is..."

He Jingzhong grabbed a wooden strip and lightly scratched it with his fingernail.

Dark red oil instantly seeped out.

Viscous.

Heavy.

"Hainan Bawang Ridge Black Oil Zhenxiang?"

He Jingzhong's voice sounded like a moan.

"This quality, one gram costs several hundred. You... you're going to burn it?"

This sack held at least twenty catties.

That alone was worth millions.

Shen Yan didn't speak.

He simply tossed the sack near the rock.

The action was as casual as throwing away a bag of trash.

"I don't understand incense."

Shen Yan leaned against the rock and lit a cigarette.

"I only understand efficiency."

"The information I received is that only this potent incense can smoke this thing awake."

"Is it enough?"

He Jingzhong swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

The way he looked at Shen Yan was no longer just reverence.

It was the look one gives a deity.

"Enough... more than enough."

"This top-grade Zhenxiang, let alone waking up one vine, it's enough to wake up a dragon."

He Jingzhong stopped wasting words.

He took out an ancient-styled purple copper censer from his tool bag.

He placed it at the downwind side of the withered Dragon Saliva Vine.

Ignited it, and smoke rose.

The dark red smoke did not dissipate randomly.

Instead, as if possessing sentience, it tightly coiled around the grayish-white withered vine.

It was the 'Incense Guide.'

Using incense to guide incense.

Time began to feel long.

The first day, there was no reaction.

The vine seemed completely dead, remaining motionless despite the swirling smoke.

On the third day, He Jingzhong's eyes were bloodshot.

He guarded the censer without leaving, holding the silver knife, always ready.

Shen Yan only came once a day.

He would take a look, then turn and leave.

No urging.

No questioning.

This silent pressure made him feel more uncomfortable than being whipped.

On the seventh day.

Rosemary Dell experienced a heavy rainstorm.

He Jingzhong didn't use an umbrella.

He used his own raincoat to fiercely shield the bronze censer.

Rainwater streamed down his pale hair and into his collar.

He knelt in the muddy water like a statue.

Muttering words under his breath.

That was the 'Spirit Summoning Chant' passed down by the older generation of incense makers.

It sounded like feudal superstition.

But it was the final obsession of an Artisan.

On the tenth day.

When A Hai brought the food over, he almost didn't recognize He Jingzhong.

The old man had lost a lot of weight, his eye sockets were sunken, and he was unshaven.

His Zhongshan suit was covered in mud spots.

"Uncle He, forget it."