Chapter 151: Cold-blooded Wu (1)

Believing that Cold-Blood Thirteen deemed this place completely secure, with no one daring to enter without his explicit permission, he had left these items scattered about rather casually.

Ye Lang harbored no guilty conscience whatsoever regarding his unauthorized intrusion, nor did he fear being discovered by Cold-Blood Thirteen. He walked right in, picked up the objects, and began examining them. He even went so far as to dismantle several of the devices, leaving obvious traces of tampering that would immediately raise red flags for anyone—under normal circumstances, that is.

However, because Cold-Blood Thirteen was utterly convinced that no one could possibly breach his domain, he simply suspected his own memory.

It was hardly surprising that he thought this way. After all, that door had been meticulously engineered by his own hands. In his estimation, even a master alchemist would find themselves completely helpless before it, let alone Ye Lang and his companions.

It was precisely because of this unshakable confidence that he failed to harbor any suspicions, allowing Ye Lang to continue poking around unchecked!

After studying the items for a long time, Ye Lang seemed to have figured out some of their principles. Although this brand of alchemy was truly wondrous, it could still be deduced using the knowledge he already possessed.

Without a doubt, no one else in this world could make such deductions relying solely on a pile of discarded scraps; only he was capable of such a feat.

However, this level of understanding was still far from sufficient. Ye Lang needed deeper insight, ideally supported by a systematic knowledge base. Lacking such texts, having at least one finished product would be the next best thing.

Therefore, if Ye Lang wanted to enter the third laboratory now, he knew for a fact that it contained precisely what he desired. Yet he was equally aware that a second breach would definitely alert Cold-Blood Thirteen, making it impossible for him to continue lingering around here.

What should he do?

After careful deliberation, Ye Lang decided to temporarily put this alchemy aside. After all, there were plenty of other alchemical arts that piqued his interest, so there was no need to rush things at this exact moment.

As for how long this careful deliberation lasted—it took roughly... a dozen seconds!!

And just like that, Ye Lang retreated from the second laboratory, closed the door behind him, walked back out through the first laboratory, and entered the outer dwelling. Selecting a room at random, he fell fast asleep.

It was already well past midnight, growing very late indeed, so naturally, it was time for bed.

Yet under circumstances like these, a normal person would never drop down and fall soundly asleep the way Ye Lang did. At the very least, they would take some defensive precautions to guard against potential assassins.

And yet, virtually everyone stationed at this headquarters of the Cold-Blood Syndicate operated this way. No one else could sleep as soundly as Ye Lang; they all maintained a conscious state of vigilance, unable to fully trust even their own comrades. After all, they belonged to the Cold-Blood Syndicate, a clandestine organization skating constantly on the razor's edge between life and death.

If they were to witness Ye Lang sleeping in such a fashion, they would likely feel a twinge of envy deep down in their hearts, though they would simultaneously write him off as a fool who lacked even the most basic sense of self-preservation.

Even if someone were to voice such criticisms, Ye Lang wouldn't have cared in the least about the opinions of others. With no one bothering him anyway, he naturally slept straight through until the sun was high in the sky, only waking up when the morning was already well advanced.

"Ah..." Upon waking, Ye Lang stretched his body with immense comfort, letting out a satisfied yawn.

He got dressed, routinely headed to the bathroom to take a shower, put on a clean set of clothes, and then went to have breakfast. Everything seemed completely normal.

Wait a minute—this wasn't his home, and he hadn't prepared any of these things beforehand. How could everything already be waiting for him? That hardly seemed normal at all.

The rather oblivious Ye Lang failed to notice that anything was amiss. He simply felt that these things ought to be prepared. Although no servants were waiting on him hand and foot, he hadn't relied on anyone to wait on him in all the years since Tiger Girl had departed.

Under the circumstances, however, this was actually quite routine. Anyone who checked into this place would be provided with hospitality. This was the duty of the outer members of the Cold-Blood Syndicate—the ostensible masters of this sprawling courtyard.

They wouldn't question Ye Lang's identity, but since he had managed to arrive here without having his movements restricted while residing within the premises, proper hospitality was mandatory.

In fact, apart from catering to Ye Lang, they were similarly required to make preparations for Cold-Blood Thirteen, even though the latter rarely emerged. All such provisions had to be ready regardless.

Precisely because of this arrangement, Ye Lang found himself in the following situation:

"I'm so full! Why is breakfast so lavish..." Ye Lang clutched his stomach, looking thoroughly stuffed.

"Time for a stroll to help digest the food!" Ye Lang had originally intended to read for a while, but feeling overly full, he decided a post-meal walk took priority.

With that, he attempted to leave the courtyard to wander aimlessly about the estate. However, this courtyard was not a place where he could simply stroll at his leisure.

Just as Ye Lang stepped out of his small courtyard, someone intercepted him and demanded to know where he was headed.

Ye Lang looked at the person blocking his path, ignoring the question entirely, and instead asked one of his own: "Oh, how strange. Why are you dressed so normally?"

As it turned out, the person was attired like an ordinary citizen—wearing neither a cloak nor a mask—which struck Ye Lang as rather abnormal.

When he had arrived here yesterday, everyone he encountered had been draped in cloaks and wearing masks; he hadn't spotted a single person looking normal.

"I am a servant of this household, and I naturally dress this way. We are not members of the syndicate, so we neither need nor are qualified to wear those outfits!" the person replied respectfully.

"Oh, so that's how it is," Ye Lang nodded. "Then do me a favor and let me pass."

"No, you cannot go out!" the servant refused, shaking his head.

"Why?" Ye Lang asked, perplexed. He couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to leave.

"Orders have been given from above to keep an eye on you. Without Lord Thirteen's permission, you are not allowed to wander about," the servant answered.

It was obvious that Cold-Blood Thirteen had already issued instructions regarding Ye Lang, assigning someone to watch him. Naturally, this was to prevent him from slipping away, thereby restricting his freedom.

However, Cold-Blood Thirteen had also given strict orders that Ye Lang was not to be harmed and must be treated with utmost hospitality. Thus, Ye Lang had effectively become a high-ranking guest under house arrest.

He lacked freedom, yet enjoyed the treatment of an honored guest!

"Oh, is that so? Well then, you can just keep an eye on me while I walk around inside. That doesn't count as wandering about aimlessly, right?" Ye Lang said offhandedly.

"This..." The servant was momentarily stunned. He hadn't considered that angle and was trying to figure out whether it complied with the superiors' instructions.

"What's with all the hesitation? Let's go, lest you lose track of me and accuse me of wandering about randomly." Ye Lang brushed right past the servant and headed outward.

"Hey, hey..." The servant immediately hurried after him, wanting to stop him, but realizing he lacked any solid grounds to do so, he simply gave up and trailed along behind Ye Lang as he meandered around the courtyard.

As long as Ye Lang remained within the confines of the compound, it shouldn't pose too big of a problem. Besides, this was the headquarters of the Cold-Blood Syndicate; if any situation arose, a single shout would bring immediate reinforcements.

(To be continued)