120: Chapter 120 The Cleaner's Reputation

"Mr. Knight's evolution will be more than just an A-minus."

It has been exactly two weeks since I said that, and the adamantium bridging scheme is still lying on the graph paper.

The skeletal manipulation gene stitching simulator has run six versions, with the maximum compatibility stuck at 68%, failing to meet the standard for action.

December 19th, 10:00 AM, Antique Shop Underground Room.

Pu'er tea was steeping in an enamel mug, brought by Liu Kun last week, who said he just tossed it in while clearing out year-end inventory.

The tea soup was very dark, and the bitterness swirled around the root of the tongue twice before a hint of sweetness emerged.

Yan Zheng sat in front of the workbench, a sheet of white paper unfolded after being folded twice, covered in pencil writing so dense he had to squint to read it.

The four-character title: Material Ledger.

"Mr. System, retrieve the current complete inventory."

The panel unfolded in the center of his field of vision, the gold-bordered list more than twice as long as it was two weeks ago.

[Material Inventory Overview (as of December 19th).]

[Advanced Genes: Fire Generation x1, Kinetic Release x1 (Used), X-23 Super Healing Factor x1 (Used).]

[Rare Genes: Skeletal Manipulation x1, Shadow Fusion x1.]

[Intermediate-Advanced Genes: Metalized Limbs x1, Biological Silk Secretion x1, Vibration Wave x1, Phase Conversion x1, Photon Absorption and Release x1 (Used), Sonic Resonance x1 (Used).]

[Intermediate-Low and Low-Level Genes: 34 units in total.]

[Total number of genes above Advanced level: 16 types.]

Yan Zheng: (˵ ꐦ ✧ ⌓ ✧ ˵)

"Sixteen types."

He lifted the cup and took a sip; the mellow Pu'er suppressed most of the lingering formaldehyde taste in his mouth.

"When we set off for the Morlocks tunnels two weeks ago, there were only nine."

"Mr. System, current Mental Power value."

[Total Mental Power: 17. Control Slot Limit: 18.]

[Dual-line control unlocked (stable). Three-line control unlocked (high load, maximum duration of four hours).]

"From fifteen to seventeen, it increased by two points in two weeks."

The sound of the cup bottom hitting the workbench was crisp and sharp.

"The speed is three times faster than Mr. System's initial estimate of six to eight weeks."

"The price is that my temples throb every night, to the point where I can no longer tell if it's a headache or my pulse."

He flipped to the second fold of the white paper, where a hand-drawn map of New York districts was scattered with seventeen red dots, marked all the way from Lower Manhattan to the northern end of The Bronx.

Next to each red dot were dates and numbers.

December 3rd, The Bronx, two bodies.

December 5th, abandoned section of the A-line, twenty bodies.

December 7th, 130th Street in Harlem, one body.

It continued until December 18th, with the last red dot drawn on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, with two bodies written next to it.

"Two weeks, seventeen collection points, a total of thirty-one bodies in storage."

"Eleven from Mutant conflict sites in various districts, three handed over by the Morlocks according to the agreement, and the rest were normal peripheral pick-ups during the harvest season."

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ ˘ ͈ ᗜ ͈ ˘ ͈)

The old mobile phone vibrated in the drawer, and Yan Zheng pulled it out to take a look.

A message from Liu Kun.

Boss, someone was asking about you in the South City again today. This is the third wave this week.

Yan Zheng typed with one hand.

"What kind of people?"

The reply came in three seconds later.

The owner of the acupuncture clinic in Chinatown, a Mutant who can freely soften and harden silver needles. He said he was trapped in his shop by Project Purity last week and couldn't escape, then two bone monsters crawled out of the back alley sewer and dragged three Agents away. He wants to thank you.

"That was No. 8 and No. 9's routine peripheral patrol, responding automatically."

Yan Zheng tapped the screen twice.

"Tell him I don't know any bone monsters. The Agents probably ran away on their own."

After sending it, he followed up with another message.

"Also, ask what they call me out there."

Liu Kun's reply was quick.

Depends on who you ask. Chinatown calls you the Scavenger. That group of homeless Mutants under the Brooklyn Bridge calls you the Bone Collector. A more sinister name has spread within the Morlocks' circle: Mr. Deathly Silence.

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ ≖ ‸ ≖)

"Scavenger, Bone Collector, Mr. Deathly Silence."

He put the phone back in the drawer and took a scalpel out of his pocket, spinning it around.

"For three months, no one knew there was a corpse collector in Hells Kitchen. Two weeks after the act passed, half of New York's underground circles are talking about it."

"Fury knows about me. Daredevil knows about me. The Brotherhood has probably heard the rumors too."

"The exposure speed is faster than the expansion of the material library."

He walked to the southeast corner, where Gunner's lean skeleton leaned against the wall, purple phosphorus fire flickering at a low frequency in the skull's eye sockets.

"Mr. Void, you did well these past two weeks."

A purple pulse flashed.

"That shot on Atlantic Avenue on the 12th, ninety meters away, blew two wheels off the Project Purity troop carrier; the actual combat performance of the sonic energy storage was twelve percent higher than the simulated parameters."

"The East Harlem skirmish on the 15th, three quad-volleys, finished the job in one minute and ten seconds."

Yan Zheng: (˵ ꐦ ✧ ᗜ ✧ ˵)

"B+ stats, A-rank combat output. More than worth the price, Mr. Void."

The purple phosphorus fire flickered twice, the frequency half a beat faster than usual.

Yan Zheng stood up and walked back to the workbench; as he put the scalpel into his pocket, his fingertips touched a hard corner.

An envelope.

The paper was rough, the edges irregular, the color yellowish, with the aged texture of something soaked in time.

There was no recipient on the surface, no stamps, no traces of any postal system handling.

It was stuck in the door crack when he opened the shop in the morning; at first glance, Yan Zheng thought it was a takeout flyer.

He realized something was wrong when he picked it up.

Inside the envelope, folded twice, was only a piece of parchment.

Yan Zheng spread it out under the desk lamp.

Red ink, handwritten, the script neat but not belonging to any calligraphy system Yan Zheng recognized.

One line of text.

"The art of necromancy should not be applied to inferior creations. Come to Kamar-Taj for tea."

No signature, no name.

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ ✧ ‸ ✧)

"Mr. System, is there an entry for Kamar-Taj in the database?"

[Kamar-Taj. Location: Kathmandu, Nepal. Nature: Sanctuary for magic practice. Associated figure: Sorcerer Supreme (identity unknown). Threat level: Unable to assess (insufficient data).]

"Is there any residual magic on this parchment?"

[Detection result: Traces of spatial folding energy detected on the surface. The delivery method was not physical transport, but rather placed directly at the shop door via spatial teleportation.]

Yan Zheng flipped the parchment over; the back was blank.

"The person who delivered the letter could open a portal directly to my shop door, but only left a letter."

"This is an invitation."

He folded the parchment and stuffed it back into the envelope, placing it at the very bottom of the drawer.

Yan Zheng: (˵ ꐦ ≖ ⌓ ≖ ˵)

"The art of necromancy should not be applied to inferior creations."

"Two pieces of information. First, they know what I'm doing. Second, they think I'm not doing it well enough."

He pressed his palm onto the inscription on Knight's chest, the dark red muscle texture pulsating beneath his palm.

"Mr. Knight, your adamantium bridging scheme is stuck at 68% and won't go through; the skeletal manipulation gene alone doesn't have enough driving force."

"But what if there was a magic-based inscription system that could fill this gap?"

A golden pulse flickered slowly.

"Archive the Kamar-Taj matter as pending, set priority to medium. I won't go in the short term."

"It's only the first week of the act's enforcement; there are more bodies in New York waiting to be collected."

He released his palm and walked back to the workbench to tidy up the pencils and graph paper.

"Gentlemen, come with me to Queens tomorrow."

"I heard a new Mutant registration center opened there, and The Brotherhood has declared they're going to trash the place."

"After they trash it, someone has to clean it up."