815: Chapter 81: Here to Steal the Manuscript?

Shen Yan's gaze focused on the line of gradually appearing golden text.

[Coordinates: Underground secret compartment, Number 33, Huai Shu Well Hutong, Old Jinghai, Capital Jinghai Z.]

[Item: The lost manuscript of the late 19th-century 'Mechanical Maniac,' Alexei, titled 'A Duet of Gears and Soul.']

[Value Assessment: This manuscript records the underlying logic for simulating biological neuronal reflexes using pure mechanics in the early days. It can perfectly complete the missing emotional algorithm for the 'Tianshu' Artificial Intelligence. Its potential commercial value is immeasurable, enough to allow Rock Technology to lead the global Artificial Intelligence field by at least ten years.]

[Note: This area is scheduled for demolition due to urban renewal in three days. The manuscript is extremely vulnerable to damage.]

Shen Yan looked at the words 'lead the global field by at least ten years.' The rhythm of his breathing did not falter, but the veins on the back of the hand resting on the armrest slightly bulged.

For him now, the constantly jumping numbers in his account had long become dull symbols. Only core technology that could change the industry landscape could stir his predatory instinct.

Without the slightest hesitation, he pressed the communication button on his desk, his voice steady, betraying no ripple of emotion.

"Chen Guangke, prepare the car for the airport. Also, apply for a direct flight route to Capital Jinghai for me. I want the fastest one."

Chen Guangke on the other end was probably eating lunch. He responded vaguely, followed by the sound of chairs scraping and hurried footsteps that could almost be heard through the receiver.

Shen Yan hung up the phone, picked up his coat, draped it over his arm, and sent a brief notification message to Liu Hui. Those few simple words conveyed the tacit understanding only found between an old married couple.

The moment he walked out of the office, the entire senior management of Rock Technology knew that the usually dormant lion was about to go patrol its territory again. Although no one knew the target this time, everyone instinctively began preparing for the impending storm.

Three hours later, Shen Yan's private jet pierced through the thick cloud layer and landed smoothly at the airport of Capital Jinghai, a place steeped in a thousand years of history.

Unlike the cold, metallic texture dominating Jinghai, the air in Capital Jinghai seemed to be permeated with the scent of aged paper and damp moss.

As soon as he exited the VIP corridor, a pre-arranged black commercial vehicle slid up to him. The driver was a taciturn middle-aged man—a local 'know-it-all' handpicked by Chen Guangke, rumored to know every paving stone in Capital Jinghai like the back of his hand.

"To the Old Jinghai, Huai Shu Well Hutong."

Shen Yan settled into the back seat, reviewing the simplified map extracted from the system in his mind once more. The scenery outside the window gradually shifted from wide asphalt roads to narrow flagstone paths bearing the marks of time.

Fine threads of rain began to drift down from the sky, and the leaves of the plane trees lining the road rustled under the downpour.

The car could not proceed further until two streets away from Huai Shu Well Hutong, as the road ahead was completely blocked by haphazardly constructed shanties and street vendors.

Shen Yan pushed the door open and stepped out. His expensive custom suit looked utterly out of place amidst the surrounding environment filled with the common hustle and bustle of Jinghai life. Passing pedestrians couldn't help but stare, their eyes filled with curiosity and scrutiny.

He opened a black umbrella, his leather shoes splashing tiny droplets as they trod on the wet flagstones, walking with determined strides toward the target location.

The system's countdown was like the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, reminding him that the lifespan of this treasure was entering its final seconds.

Just as he turned into an old junk street named 'Liulichang,' a fierce argument cut through the rain and reached his ears.

"Old man, don't be ungrateful! Half of this worn notebook is eaten by insects. Giving you fifty yuan is out of pity. Do you really think what you're holding is some priceless heirloom?"

Shen Yan originally had no intention of interfering with such a common street dispute. His gaze habitually swept over the rudimentary stall, but his steps suddenly froze.

The man being shoved looked to be around fifty, with messy, graying hair, wearing a faded tunic suit, and thick-lensed glasses taped together at the bridge.

But that wasn't the main point. The crucial thing was the oilcloth package the man was fiercely clutching to his chest—the system's radar emitted a faint vibrating alert at that moment.

It wasn't Alexei's manuscript, but the system showed that a watch schematic inside that package had an intricate connection to the manuscript, belonging to an associated item from the same period.

Shen Yan closed his umbrella and walked over discreetly. At that moment, the burly stall owner was raising his hand, seemingly about to forcibly snatch the item from the man's embrace.

"Stop."

The two words were not loud, but they carried an imposing pressure cultivated from long-held authority, causing the stall owner's hand to freeze mid-air.

The owner turned around, sizing up Shen Yan from head to toe. Upon seeing the luxury watch on the other's wrist, worth a sports car, his fierce expression instantly morphed into a fawning smile.

"Oh, Boss, what has caught your eye? This old lunatic is treating some junk as a treasure. I was just teaching him a lesson not to block my business."

The man called the 'old lunatic' took the opportunity to shrink back, watching Shen Yan warily, clutching the package even tighter, like an old cat guarding its food.

Shen Yan ignored the owner's eagerness and let his gaze settle on the face of the down-and-out man. Although the eyes hidden behind the thick lenses were bloodshot, they held a fanatical and pure light.

"I want this."

Shen Yan pointed at the package in the man's arms, his tone as indifferent as if he were buying a common cabbage at the market.

The stall owner was stunned for a moment, then his eyes darted around, thinking this was a big score. He immediately rubbed his hands together and stepped closer.

"Boss, you truly have taste. Although this old lunatic claims it's a treasure, it's just old junk after all. If you sincerely want it, give him five hundred... No, one thousand yuan, let him buy some wine with it."

The destitute man trembled with anger upon hearing this, roaring in a hoarse voice: "This is the core manuscript of the 'Self-Striking Clock' left over from the Self-Strengthening Movement in the late Qing Dynasty! It's priceless! You fools who can't recognize value!"

Shen Yan's eyebrows twitched slightly. A person who could recognize the origin of this item immediately wasn't just some ordinary scavenger.

He pulled out his checkbook from his inner pocket, scribbled a string of numbers, tore off the check, and handed it to the dumbfounded stall owner.

"This is fifty thousand. Buy everything on your stall. Now, take the money and scram."

The stall owner stared at the zeros on the check until his eyeballs nearly popped out. Fearing Shen Yan might change his mind, he snatched the check, abandoning even the scrap metal on the ground, bowed repeatedly, and disappeared into the rain.

The surrounding crowd of onlookers let out a low gasp, their gazes toward Shen Yan now mixed with a degree of awe and envy.

The destitute man clearly had never witnessed such a scene. He adjusted his glasses, looking at Shen Yan somewhat at a loss, but the wariness in his eyes had not completely dissipated.

"You... are you also here to snatch the manuscript?"