This Taoist priest is so unprofessional!

Zhang Chen beckoned to Wang Xiaoer with his finger, signaling him to come closer.

"Waiter, think about it."

Zhang Chen lowered his voice and spoke mysteriously.

"If I had walked in yesterday and, without saying a word, 'smack!' killed that thing, in less than two minutes, what do you think Mr. Zhao would have thought?"

Wang Xiaoer subconsciously thought about what he said.

Zhang Chen immediately imitated the tone and demeanor of a wealthy boss, speaking with remarkable accuracy.

He would think, 'That's it?'

"'It was so easy to handle, yet you still charged me 500,000? Hey, here's 200 as a token."

"See, that's where the problem lies," Zhang Chen slapped his thigh.

"He won't think I'm good; he'll just think that thing is too weak and that he wasted his money. He'll probably never come to me again, and he might even tell people in the industry that I'm a fraud."

"so!"

"The procedure must be followed! The master must be present! The procession must be grand! The candlelight must be dim! The incantation must be lengthy!"

"I want him to see clearly how ferocious and difficult this thing is to deal with. I want him to be so scared that he wets his pants, feeling like his life is about to end at any moment. Then, like a god descending to earth, after an earth-shattering battle, I will 'laboriously' subdue it."

"That way, he'll feel that the 500,000 was well spent, that he can spend it with peace of mind, and that he got a great deal!"

"He would feel like he bought his life back from the brink of death for half a million dollars!"

Zhang Chen concluded with a hint of smugness on his face.

"That's what you call professionalism."

An eerie silence fell over the taxi.

Only the driver glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror with a look as if he were looking at a lunatic.

Wang Xiaoer was completely petrified.

He stared blankly at Zhang Chen, mouth agape, feeling his worldview, built up over the past decade or so, crumbling, shattering, and then being reshaped.

He looked down at the backpack in his arms, inside which lay two Taoist classics that had guided him into the field.

At that moment, he suddenly felt that he had read all those books in vain.

Besides Taoist arts, there seems to be so much more for me to learn.

After finishing his "lecture," Zhang Chen reverted to his usual lazy demeanor.

His gaze fell on the bronze box at his feet, and he reached out and patted it.

"but……"

His voice suddenly lowered, and a hint of seriousness flashed in his eyes.

"We were lucky this time; we only encountered a gatekeeper terracotta warrior."

"What if we really released the 'real thing' inside this box..."

"That would be a lot of fun."

……

After the "Yelang Ghost Puppet" incident, the firm enjoyed a rare period of calm.

It was like a spring that had been stretched to its limit suddenly relaxing, and a lazy feeling filled the air.

Zhang Chen seemed to have suddenly changed his personality. He was no longer the internet addict who would slump in a chair and argue with someone for half an hour over a mid-lane position.

After he brought the bronze box back, he locked himself in his inner room all day, tinkering with something.

Wang Xiaoer occasionally peeked through the crack in the door and saw that the candlelight inside was flickering, the floor was covered with incomprehensible runes, and Zhang Chen was holding all sorts of strange tools, tapping and knocking on the box while muttering incantations.

His focused expression was like that of a scholar about to solve a century-old problem.

Wang Xiaoer wisely refrained from disturbing them.

He himself wasn't idle either.

The two books that Zhang Chen casually tossed to him, "An Introduction to Taoist Talismans and Magic" and "Basic Formations and Explanations of Geomancy," became his new favorites.

He plunged in headfirst.

But just two days later, he felt a deep sense of defeat.

Drawing talismans requires talent, a unity of mind and spirit, and the ability to execute the strokes smoothly and effortlessly.

What Wang Xiaoer drew was less like a talisman and more like an earthworm crushed by a wheel—crooked, twisted, and utterly devoid of any spirit.

As for battle formations, the theories of Qiankun Kanli, Yin Yang Bagua, and so on made his head spin, even more disheartening than the physics and chemistry he studied before dropping out of school.

He had to admit a fact.

I may not really have much talent in these "orthodox" Taoist arts that require inheritance and talent.

Just when he was about to give up, he found an inconspicuous appendix in the last page of "Basic Formations and Explanations of Maps and Maps".

The appendix records a strange technique.

"Five Elements Concealment Technique".

The name sounded mysterious, but upon closer inspection, Wang Xiaoer discovered that the principle behind it was surprisingly scientific.

The book states that this technique is not true invisibility, but rather a skill that utilizes formations and visual deception.

The theory is this: if each person is regarded as an independent source of direction, a miniature feng shui energy field will naturally form around them.

Where there is an aura, there are gates of life and death, and positions of prosperity and decline.

Similarly, there will inevitably be "blind spots" and "dead zones" that are overlooked by one's own aura and visual habits.

The core of the Five Elements Concealment Technique is to integrate one's own aura with the surrounding environment through specific footwork and breathing, and actively enter the blind spots and perception dead zones of others.

In this way, one can minimize their "presence".

This is less a spell and more an application that perfectly blends feng shui, psychology, and stealth techniques.

Wang Xiaoer immediately became interested.

This doesn't require drawing those scribbled symbols or memorizing tongue twisters; it values ​​a feeling and a skill.

What he has in abundance is the intuition cultivated through living alone.

Add to that that inexplicable good luck, and learning this kind of thing becomes incredibly easy and efficient.

Then, a strange scene unfolded in the firm.

Wang Xiaoer practices every day.

Sometimes he would stand in front of the full-length mirror, taking extremely awkward, shuffling steps, his body contorted in an illogical way, trying to find a "gap" in the light reflected from the mirror.

Sometimes he would walk around the table in the center of the office where guests were seated, his pace sometimes fast and sometimes slow, his breathing sometimes faint and sometimes faint.

When Zhang Chen occasionally came out of the inner room to pour water, he would see Wang Xiaoer dancing a bizarre dance in the living room like a sleepwalking lunatic.

But he just raised an eyebrow, asked nothing, and went back with his water glass.

That evening, Wang Xiaoer's stomach was growling with hunger, but he was too lazy to cook.

He pocketed his phone and strolled out of the office.

The office is located in the old town. Just two streets away from the river, there is a lively food street.

As dusk settles, the streets are lined with all sorts of food stalls, the smoke from barbecues mingling with the aroma of spicy hot pot, making one's mouth water.

Wang Xiaoer walked straight to a familiar barbecue stall.

"Boss, the usual, extra sauce, extra spicy!"

"Okay!"

The boss deftly grabbed various skewers from the freezer and tossed them onto the scorching hot grill.

"Sizzle—"

When the oil comes into contact with the charcoal fire, it instantly releases a rich aroma.

Wang Xiaoer stood to the side, took a deep breath of the air filled with the warmth of everyday life, and felt much of the fatigue from the whole day dissipate.

He didn't just wait idly.

His feet moved in place with an extremely subtle, peculiar rhythm.

The eyes observe the pedestrians coming and going, simulating their walking routes and line of sight in the mind, searching for nodes where one can "disappear".

"To achieve unity of mind and spirit, to merge with all things..."

He silently recited the incantation for the escape technique while trying to blend his aura into the noisy environment.

It blends in the smoke from the barbecue, the laughter and banter of couples, and the cries of children.

Gradually, he felt as if he had become a roadside stone, an inconspicuous trash can.

People walk past him, but few people glance at him.

Even the owner, who was busy grilling skewers, almost forgot that he was still waiting there several times.