Chapter Fourteen: The Sordid Old Man

Early the next morning, Wood gathered the three of them and explained the matter of the “Agent’s Trial.” The three all looked bewildered; even Gu Feng, the most senior among them, had no idea what it was about.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing…” Gu Feng plucked a hair and rubbed it between his fingers, frowning—a habit of his whenever he was deep in thought. “I’ve been a plane agent for decades and never encountered anything like this!” He opened his plane system and consulted a few friends, but still shook his head. “No one’s heard of it, and no one knows what it’s about.”

Wood was even more at a loss. If someone with decades of experience had never come across this, why had he been singled out? They discussed it for a while but couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation. Suddenly, Zigu said, “Could it be that Wood’s level increased too quickly and triggered this trial quest?”

This suggestion made everyone nod in agreement. Gu Feng said, “That’s likely. Every time we, as plane agents, advance a level, it takes years, and the time only gets longer as you progress. But this freak here reached C-rank in just a few days. It’s only fair that he faces some added difficulty!”

Baldy added, “We don’t even know whether this trial is good or bad. Wood, do you know the content of the trial?”

Wood shook his head, replying, “Apparently, you only learn the task once you enter the trial program. For now, it just says the difficulty is unknown.”

Zigu shot Wood a sympathetic look. “Unknown? That’s the worst! If your luck is good, it’s fine. But if your luck is bad and you get an S-class difficulty task, we may never see you again! Ah, what a pity for my Transformer!”

Gu Feng said, “It seems the most important thing now is to strengthen Wood. Baldy, give him the S-Virus Evolution Serum. Maybe he’ll need it during the trial. There are six hours left before the trial begins, so let’s hurry to the Plane Trading Space and see what useful things we can find for Wood.”

At this crucial moment, Gu Feng displayed the demeanor of a leader. Baldy produced a vial, saying, “This is the S-Virus Evolution Serum, a higher version than the G-Virus. I’d planned to give it to you in a month, but you’d better have it now. Remember, you must wait 27 days before you can use it.”

“Alright! Let’s go to the Plane Trading Space.” As Gu Feng spoke, he took out his wand—his plane system was embedded in it.

The Plane Trading Space was a place where agents from different planes traded items. Only agents whose plane systems had advanced to at least C-rank could enter. However, the space wasn’t open at all times; it was said to open only once every ten days. As a result, agents with special items that they didn’t know how to price in the “Plane Shop” would bring them to the trading space to exchange for things they needed.

On this day, it happened to be open. Led by Gu Feng, they activated the “Trading Space” teleportation function, and in an instant, they appeared in a white, empty expanse.

The space was about one square kilometer in size, easily visible from end to end. Beyond its borders was utter darkness, dotted with the occasional shooting star. Looking into the distance, one could even spot planets in motion, as if they were truly in outer space. Suspended high above was a glaring white orb, bathing the space in an almost harsh, clinical light. Scattered haphazardly around the area were several small stalls, resembling a primitive marketplace.

Wood made a rough count; there were about a hundred people in the space. “Are there usually so few people here?” he asked.

Gu Feng gave him a look. “You think this is few? Most of the plane agents are here.”

“But my plane system says there are more than a thousand agents!” Wood replied, puzzled.

Baldy explained, “Oh, those numbers are random—it doesn’t really mean anything. I’ve been coming here for ages, and it’s always these same faces.”

Gu Feng and Baldy were both old hands, and as soon as they appeared, many agents greeted them. Following the others around, Wood soon realized that although the stalls appeared chaotic, each group actually kept to its own territory.

Agents from magical planes clustered together, those from biohazard planes formed another group, and the science fiction agents, who seemed more familiar with each other, pooled their items for others to pick through. There were also a few mysterious agents, each sitting alone at their own stalls in silence. Wood noticed that the items on these isolated agents’ stalls were quite unique: skill cards, equipment, and objects he couldn’t even identify.

Skill cards were a rare commodity in every plane, and no one knew which plane had created them. In magical planes, there was combat energy and magic, but those abilities were cultivated over years of effort. Biohazard planes had empowered individuals, but their powers came through awakening and hard work. Science fiction planes relied on technology and had no such thing as skills. Even the mysterious cultivation planes had never produced skill cards.

The most astonishing thing about skill cards was how overpowered they were. Others had to toil for years to gain their abilities, but with a simple swipe of a skill card, you could instantly possess a new skill. Who wouldn’t envy that?

As a result, crowds gathered around the skill card stalls. Someone asked, “Brother, which plane are you from to have such heaven-defying items as skill cards?”

The stall owner said nothing, simply holding up a sign with two words: “Not telling!” The crowd burst into laughter.

Another person asked, “How did you get these skill cards?”

Again, the man raised a sign: “Not telling you!”

Someone laughed, “So you’re just—”

Before he could finish, the stall owner swiftly raised another sign: “You’re the mute!”

Everyone burst out laughing. Wood noticed the stall owner was wrapped head to toe in a black robe, even his hands were gloved—truly mysterious. He turned to Baldy, “Baldy, did you get your skill card modified by him?”

Baldy glanced at the mysterious figure. “No, that guy’s a young man, and he doesn’t sell skill cards—he just has the ability to modify them.”

Hearing this, the black-robed man looked over and raised a sign: “Give me the contact info for the skill card modifier and I’ll gift you a B-rank skill card of your choice!”

Baldy shook his head. “It was a rare encounter—I’d like to find him again myself!”

Disappointed, the man put down his sign. Baldy stepped forward, picked up a card, and said to Wood, “C-rank skill: ‘Swift Flash.’ It’s suitable for you right now.”

Wood took it, and immediately heard Doraemon’s mechanical voice: “Scanning… Current C-rank skill card: ‘Swift Flash,’ a combat auxiliary attack skill. Range: within 10 meters; consumes: mental power, magic power, vital energy, or energy. When activated, the user’s speed increases dramatically.”

The stall owner, seeing their interest, held up another sign: “C-rank skill card, fixed price: 500 reward points, fair for all!”

The best thing about this card was that, unlike “Particle Wave,” it didn’t require upgrading. Wood glanced at Baldy, who nodded, so he promptly paid 500 reward points through the plane system and fused the skill card.

Baldy was about to help him pick two more skill cards when, from the other side of the trading space, they heard Gu Feng and Zigu arguing with an old man. “Are you kidding? You call this an A-grade item? I won’t even trade my Fountain of Youth Water for it!”

Zigu chimed in, “Exactly! That thing isn’t even that useful—who would buy it?”

Wood and Baldy hurried over and saw the old man with an A4-sized book in front of him. The cover looked ancient, but the two bold, slanted characters on it ruined the impression—it read “Harem.”

Puzzled, Wood pulled Zigu aside and asked, “What is that?”

Zigu replied oddly, “You don’t know what a harem is? A man’s harem, get it?”

“What does that have to do with the book?” Wood asked.

Zigu rolled his eyes and was about to explain when the old man chuckled, “Heh, young man, this portable ‘Harem’ is an essential for men. It contains a hundred and twenty pages, each a separate space—villas, forests, beaches, you name it. Most importantly, you can make special contracts with weaker life forms and store them within the pages, where they become your… heh heh!” The old man wore the lecherous grin every man understood.

Wood examined the old man: dressed in a plain blue robe, his face wrinkled, gray hair loosely pinned with a hair stick—he looked as shifty as one could imagine.

“So you’re saying that any woman who signs a special contract becomes the private pet of the book’s owner?” Wood asked in realization.

The old man gave him a thumbs-up. “A real man! Only a hundred top-grade energy crystals and this book is yours!”

Suddenly, Wood realized the important point wasn’t the so-called “Harem,” but: “You mean this book can store living beings? Like a spatial medium? A cultivation artifact?”

The old man chuckled, “You know your stuff! Right, only cultivation methods can create this type of item. It’s a thousand times better than those lifeless spatial items from magical planes! Plus, each page is a separate world, each with 500 square kilometers of space! Once you become the book’s master, anything or anyone you store inside must acknowledge you as their master. In their eyes, you’re an omnipotent god!” He boasted with pride, before sighing, “If I didn’t desperately need a hundred top-grade energy crystals, I’d never part with such a treasure!”