“How do you know that?”

Li Ang glared and continuously conjured various items from the void, placing them on the table.

There were clothes racks, meat hooks, black kitchen garbage bags, disposable rubber gloves, 84 disinfectant, dental floss sticks, and red wine.

There was even a large loudspeaker commonly used by street vendors—if the script world didn't ban electronic products, it would shout advertisements like "Nine kuai jiu, everything is nine kuai jiu! Nine kuai jiu you won't suffer a loss, nine kuai jiu you won't be fooled!"

Considering that anything could happen in the script world, Li Ang had even put half a cheap "nine kuai jiu" store into the automated pet feeder with its massive storage space, just in case.

“Should I praise you for being a Doraemon with a four-dimensional space underwear?”

Wanli Fengdao’s eyes twitched as he glanced at the bottle of red wine with an English label, complaining with a pained expression, “Putting aside everything else, is there even red wine that costs nine kuai jiu?”

“Why wouldn’t there be? The cost price of many commodities in the real world is shockingly low,”

Li Ang said casually, “Of course, that nine kuai jiu one is artificially colored. The cost price of a slightly better wine is thirty or forty, and it can be sold online for two hundred and fifty.

There’s an unethical way to make quick money: take boxes of cheap bottled wine from factories in urban-rural areas, pay a small fee to the mall, set up a temporary stall for promotion, write the original price as two hundred and ninety, and offer a discounted price of ninety-nine. If you're not afraid of people, dare to shout, and move around several malls, you can earn thousands or tens of thousands of net profit in a day, and earn enough for a down payment in two months.”

“There, there’s such a thing?”

Wanli Fengdao was stunned, then he reacted, looking at Li Ang with a flickering gaze.

Li Ang waved his hand, "Don't look at me. I would never do anything that harms others to benefit myself."

Heh, heh.

Wanli Fengdao laughed awkwardly a few times. Li Ang added, "That kind of money-making is too low and too slow, and it's not legitimate. There's a high probability of failure. The business model of truly profitable gray industries is often so simple and stupid that people exclaim, 'This thing can also make money!'"

Wanli Fengdao and Xing Hechou didn't feel much about this, but Liu Wudai, as the Qianjin of the Liu family, was moved.

In the business world, she had heard of many cases where people made a fortune overnight with gray profit projects—of course, those people's methods were too wild, too low, and their level was too low, so their success was difficult to replicate.

Only a few lucky ones could get out of the gray area, start operating industries, come into contact with the outermost circle of the Yin City business community, transform into fat-headed, big-eared, legitimate businessmen of the upper class, barely reaching the bottom of the Liu family's feet.

Liu Wudai thought of the sly moves she had seen when she teamed up with Li Ang before, and couldn't help thinking, "Meticulous thinking, kind face with a dark heart, ruthless methods,

If he were to enter the business world, he would definitely be a good player..."

"In short,"

Li Ang put away the red wine and other items on the table, tapped the white sail in his hand, and said seriously, "I'll go to the vicinity of the Shu King's Mansion to prepare first."

Xing Hechou asked, "Not with us?"

Li Ang shook his head, "No, my identity as the Ximenzi Daoist has been too high-profile lately. Gathering together will only add trouble.

Anyway, we have Bingfeng for remote communication. Any information can be transmitted through it."

As if in response to Li Ang's call, the Bingfeng that was lying on the table stopped wiping the sauce from its front feet and vibrated its wings with a "buzz."

Although the Bingfengs could not understand the words spoken by humans, they could transmit sound information at a specific frequency to the brain worms flying high in the sky by vibrating their wings,

Allowing the brain worms to remotely transmit the information to Li Ang by praying to the gods.

Li Ang left the restaurant, leaning on the white sail of the cloth-clad fortune teller, disappeared into the crowd, and disappeared at the street corner.

He separated from his teammates, not only to reduce the risk of exposing his identity and attracting the prying eyes of native cultivators,

But also because some of his preparations were a bit shady...

——————

Lüzhou City, south side, a certain post station.

This was a temporarily transformed guest room. All the furniture in the room had been moved out, leaving only the spotless wooden floor.

The doors and windows of the room were nailed with wooden boards, leaving no gaps. Not a single ray of light could shine in, making it dark and gloomy, so dark you couldn't see your fingers.

Seven thin, dark-skinned monks sat cross-legged in a circle. In the center of the circle,

There was a huge iron cage, two people high, covered with several layers of thick black cloth.

"If these four things are not lost, the mind does not cling to form, sound, smell, taste, or touch. How can all demonic matters arise? If there are past habits that cannot be eliminated..."

The seven Annamese monks closed their eyes and constantly chanted scriptures,

The Buddhist sounds echoed in the closed room,

The originally stagnant and turbid air,

Seemed to emit a hazy fragrance under the influence of the power of chanting scriptures.

However, within the solemn Buddhist sounds, there was always an extremely slight rustling sound.

That sound was like clothes rubbing against skin, like fingertips stroking a wooden table,

Like a large rat crawling along the corner of a wall,

Like a centipede gliding over a mossy stone surface,

Like mosquitoes and moths vibrating their wings.

Faint and tiny, omnipresent,

As if it wanted to drill into the monks' ear canals, enter their brains, corrode flesh and blood, and erode their sanity.

The rustling sound became louder and louder, clear even in the Buddhist sounds.

The oldest monk, facing the door, remained unmoved, neither sad nor happy.

He could hear the sound of armored guards patrolling downstairs, their feet stepping on the ground,

He could feel the donkeys and horses in the stable eating fodder.

He could even sense that a Xichang Tiqi lurking in the woods behind the post station had slapped a mosquito that landed on his face to death, and smeared the mosquito's corpse on the dry bark of a nearby tree.

Naturally, he also noticed that the young monk opposite him had long been overwhelmed—

That young monk was still insisting on chanting scriptures, but his voice trembled, his eyelids twitched,

And his slightly opened eyes were filled with spiderweb-like bloodshot veins.

“…”

The old monk sighed in his heart, silently increased the volume of chanting,

Without opening his eyes, he gently tapped the ground with his knuckles.

The young monk opened his eyes, glanced at him with gratitude and guilt, stood up, slowly saluted,

Turned around, staggered to the corner of the room, pushed open a secret door, and left the room.

After a long time, the demonic sound suddenly stopped,

In the iron cage covered with thick black cloth, a hoarse, low sound like the scraping of iron sheets rang out, "Lüzhou, are we almost there?"

The old monk's eyelids were lowered, and his wrinkled face was twisted into a ball, making it impossible to tell whether it was sorrow or joy, "Two more days."

The demonic sound was silent for a moment, "Two days..."

The demonic sound gradually faded, and the Buddhist sound continued.