Chapter 117
Chapter 117
After parting from Yu Qianqian and the others, Qin Lan followed the address Fatty Wu had provided.
On the map, the mysterious shop did not seem far away–at least compared to the overall size of the Central Region. It even looked close.
In practice, Qin Lan spent most of the day traveling before finally emerging from the subway station.
If the subway network was a spiderweb, the spider that wove it had to live in the legendary Cave of Silken Web.
Stepping outside, Qin Lan felt as though he had entered another lifetime.
He resembled a sewer rat accustomed to the darkness, suddenly uncomfortable upon reaching the surface.
Qin Lan had once doubted the description of the Central Region as “the mother who nurtures the other Safe Zones.”
Only now did he understand that the description was indeed inaccurate.
Mother? This place was their fucking great-grandmother.
Anomaly Hunters, considered rare in Eastern Safe Zone 088, were everywhere here.
Qin Lan had already seen more than a hundred hurried 1-Star and 2-Star Anomaly Hunters along the way.
If that many appeared in Safe Zone 088, it could mean only one thing–an anomaly invasion.
After his initial astonishment, Qin Lan gradually became accustomed to it.
Naturally, 3-Star Anomaly Hunters like him were still uncommon. 3-Star was a major dividing line that filtered out countless mediocre people. Those with “extraordinary achievements” were rarer still.
So far, Qin Lan had not seen a second one.
That made sense.
A massive anomaly invasion such as the battle of the fissures might not occur in a Safe Zone for ten or twenty years. Opportunities to earn major achievements were scarce.
This was the Central Region, where safety was excessive.
Anomaly Hunters walked everywhere and B-rank Talents were as common as dogs, making those opportunities even rarer.
How did the saying go?
Young soldiers yearned to win glory. In the Central Region, so many people yearned for it that they nearly cracked each other’s skulls fighting for the chance.
Qin Lan had benefited from living in the countryside.
One thing deserved special mention. Beyond experiencing the prosperity of the big city, Qin Lan also experienced the enthusiasm of its young women.
He kept his Anomaly Hunter badge displayed so he could use priority lanes instead of squeezing through crowds of ordinary citizens.
Combined with his obviously young face, that naturally made him prey for many hunters.
Anyone with a brain understood that a man who became a 3-Star Anomaly Hunter this young was almost certain to reach 4-Star in several years.
Even in the Central Region, that talent placed him among the elite of the elite.
The difference between a 4-Star Anomaly Hunter in his fifties or sixties and one in his twenties was immense.
The women who openly asked for his contact information already overwhelmed Qin Lan, never mind those too shy to approach, who could only send suggestive looks from nearby.
Their enthusiasm nearly burned him to ash.
Several young women secretly raised their phones and photographed him. They would probably post the pictures later on some campus or city social page to search for him.
[Besties, who understands? I saw my crush on the subway this morning…]
Qin Lan vaguely remembered the last time people secretly photographed him like this.
It had been inside Terror Subway.
The memory triggered him slightly. Qin Lan hurried away from the scene.
“It should be this street…”
He looked up at the road ahead and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Finally.
This was a locally famous vintage-goods street, where shops sold items from bygone eras.
A casual glance through the windows revealed merchandise steeped in age.
They even had the sort of old recorder Xue Chuan had pulled out before.
Many items were interesting enough to make Qin Lan stop and look.
He finally understood the irresistible itch women felt while shopping.
“Oh? An old Anomaly Hunter combat uniform? This style must be twenty years old.”
A garment displayed in a clothing store caught his attention.
The combat uniform was fairly well preserved, though visible repairs showed that its previous owner had worn it through many battles.
Its pure-black fabric had lost some luster, but remained carefully maintained.
Despite its age, both workmanship and materials were exquisite. It had fallen behind modern equipment, but remained a fine collectible.
“The design looks good, and the repairs are meticulous. Even the traces of death on it…”
“Hmm? Traces of death?”
Qin Lan froze.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Faint strands of death truly clung to the garment.
They were extremely thin, but Qin Lan was absolutely certain.
Those were traces of death.
Wait.
How could a piece of clothing have traces of death?
Qin Lan could not understand it.
Normally, seeing traces of death meant one of two things.
Either the target posed a tremendous threat to him, or the target itself was close to death.
But this was only clothing.
Qin Lan narrowed his eyes and stared at the twenty-year-old combat uniform for a long time, yet saw nothing else unusual.
After hesitating, he entered the store.
“Look around if you want anything. Small business, no ref–holy shit!”
The owner had been dozing over the counter. He glanced up, yawned, and could not be bothered to greet Qin Lan.
Then his gaze landed on the badge over Qin Lan’s chest, and he sprang upright as though injected with chicken blood.
“Damn! An honored guest!”
The owner vaulted nimbly over the counter, scrambled to Qin Lan, and piled a smile across his face.
“Lord Anomaly Hunter, what would you like? I have plenty of quality goods!”
Qin Lan walked straight to the combat uniform, his expression calm.
“Nothing. Just looking.”
As he spoke, he reached out and touched it.
The instant his fingertips met the fabric, his pupils contracted.
One of his skills had activated.
[Call the Parents]
This skill from Dead Silence Academy allowed him to read a target’s memories through touch, extract the images of its “parents,” and create a replica.
Normally, the skill remained locked until he selected and touched a target.
Now it had unlocked.
He had extracted memories from this “combat uniform.”
The clothing was alive.