Chapter Sixteen: Wang Xiaoming
“Mr. Shen, please remain calm. If you agree, the headquarters will reward you generously according to the standards of the criminal police. We have preliminarily revised the latest provisions for ghost tamers: for each case resolved, a bonus starting at one million yuan will be granted based on the difficulty of the incident.”
“On top of that, you will have the authority to withdraw over one hundred kilograms of gold from any bank nationwide. Since Mr. Shen is only assisting, we’re willing to increase this quota to five hundred kilograms.”
Wu Qiu clearly understands the art of negotiation; she prioritized addressing the most pressing concern—the money—and specifically emphasized the gold allocation issue, which is a matter no ghost tamer can overlook.
Shen Lin felt tempted; a quota of five hundred kilograms of gold was staggering.
What did this mean? One kilogram of gold is worth about 500,000 yuan on the market. Five hundred kilograms—that’s 250 million yuan.
More importantly, the official, openly acknowledged gold reserves amount to only about two thousand tons. Even counting undisclosed reserves, it would total just five thousand tons—a limited resource that’s difficult to replenish in today’s climate.
Of course, these conversions merely reflect obvious value. At present, no ghost tamer would be foolish enough to exchange gold for cash—that would be madness or desperation.
“Mr. Shen, this is only the financial consideration. On the information front, we will handle your personal data with absolute confidentiality. Additionally, certain supernatural files from the headquarters’ database will be fully accessible to you without restriction.”
A trump card!
Gold was secondary; this batch of supernatural files was what Shen Lin urgently needed. If necessary, he even wanted access to the headquarters’ experimental data on controlling a second ghost.
Of course, he knew that was impossible. At this stage, such data was likely still in the hands of Wang Xiaoming and classified as top secret.
“Sounds tempting,” Shen Lin smiled.
“I suppose I have no reason to refuse.”
“But it’s not enough!”
Like a thunderclap, the response startled Wu Qiu. She had thought these generous terms, far surpassing what ordinary ghost tamers received, would sway Shen Lin, but they had no effect at all.
Shen Lin understood the unique advantages of joining Interpol better than anyone.
But he knew even better the ineptitude and inaction of those political schemers at headquarters—still clinging to outdated ways and flawed perspectives amidst changing times.
The chaotic struggles between the social circles and Yang Jian in the original story illustrated this perfectly.
Compromise, compromise, endless compromise.
Even someone as formidable as Xiao Yang was treated like a discarded pawn; eliminating the social circles was almost a joke.
Who wants to be a pawn? No one.
Shen Lin refused to be abandoned as a useless piece on the board.
He wanted to test headquarters’ appetite. At this early stage of the supernatural resurgence, possessing the Ghost Realm, aside from Old Qin at headquarters and a few figures from the Republic era, he feared no one.
Even if he couldn’t win, he could always run.
“Tell your superiors, only merchants pursue profit. I am a ghost tamer. Ghost tamers are anomalies. Money holds no attraction for us. We have less than a year of fleeting life and bodies that don’t quite belong—wealth means nothing to us.”
“You need life to spend money!”
“Ghost tamers can get money easily. Even working as hired charlatans to resolve minor incidents, earning money is effortless.”
“Money means gold. In a stable society where order isn’t disrupted, even if my future gold allocation isn’t enough, it will suffice for now.”
“With the same conditions, I have more freedom. Why should I take the fall for headquarters against my will?”
The crowded meeting room seemed frozen in time.
Zhao Jianguo looked embarrassed among the attendees. If a large enough gap opened, he would have dived in without hesitation.
News of Shen Lin single-handedly resolving the Grade-A Ghost Mother case had spread throughout headquarters that afternoon. To win Shen Lin’s favor, Zhao Jianguo had authorized this call.
Most attendees were there just to watch; only Professor Wang was present as an observer.
He sensed Zhao Jianguo’s dull mind might have missed something. From the start, Wang Xiaoming had perceived that Shen Lin was extraordinary.
He was calm and composed, strategic and far-sighted.
As if he already knew something.
“Professor Wang, apologies for the disturbance,” Zhao Jianguo said awkwardly, unsure how to proceed.
“That arrogant brat, who does he think he is?” someone shouted, clearly displeased with Shen Lin.
Others wanted to agree but were cut off by a cold voice.
Wang Xiaoming held a pen, seemingly calculating something. He was serious and didn’t even glance at them, considering these people unworthy of interrupting his thoughts.
“There’s nothing to it. If you could, as an ordinary person, resolve a Grade-A incident, imprison the root ghost entity, lead several people out unscathed, and become a ghost tamer, you would have the right to be arrogant too.”
His tone was flat, treating it as ordinary fact.
To Wang Xiaoming, this was perfectly normal. Geniuses are always proud. With an IQ over two hundred, he regarded those around him no differently than monkeys.
If you have the right to be arrogant, then you should be arrogant.
One must not be haughty, but never without backbone.
All sages throughout history have been so.
The atmosphere grew even more awkward—like a conversation between two geniuses across space, silently belittling everyone else.
Zhao Jianguo didn’t know what to say and just stared helplessly at Wang Xiaoming.
Everything Wu Qiu mentioned was the highest offer Zhao Jianguo could make; he had no authority beyond that.
Silence ensued until Wang Xiaoming finally stopped writing and handed his notebook to the assistant behind him.
“Test this reaction pattern again.”
The assistant nodded and left.
After stretching luxuriously, Wang Xiaoming reached out.
“Give me the phone. I’ll talk to him.”
Wu Qiu was stunned. She didn’t understand the status of the man before her and looked to Zhao Jianguo.
Zhao Jianguo was frantic, signaling wildly, nearly rolling his eyes in desperation.
“Stop dawdling. Give the phone to Professor Wang!”
Wang Xiaoming took the phone from Wu Qiu and said calmly,
“Save your temper for the right place. If you want, I don’t mind arranging a regular experiment to strike hard ghosts using ordinary people. Don’t waste your anger here.”
Zhao Jianguo was speechless, just as Wang Xiaoming answered the call.
“Hello, speaking. My surname is Wang, Wang Xiaoming.”
Shen Lin was startled; he hadn’t expected this call.
“Shen Lin.”
His voice was neither humble nor arrogant.
“You’re not surprised and ask no questions. Have you heard of me before?”
Shen Lin was shocked. He knew Wang Xiaoming’s extraordinary intellect had sensed something, but he couldn’t admit to such a terrifying thing as time travel.
“Vaguely.”
Wang Xiaoming squinted, detecting Shen Lin’s evasion, and smiled wider.
“Since you know, that saves us time. Negotiations need some preliminaries. May I ask you a few questions? Of course, you may choose to answer or not.”
Shen Lin narrowed his eyes, realizing this would be a duel.
Whether he answered or not, Wang Xiaoming would guess something. Often, deliberate evasion and tacit acceptance are the same.
“Mr. Shen, I have thoroughly investigated your background and family. Your father died shortly after you were born. You were raised by your mother. After you graduated from university—about six months ago—your mother died in an accident, resulting in a large insurance payout to you.”
“Of course, none of that matters. What I want to ask is: Mr. Shen, I find no sign of your integration with any social strata. Undoubtedly, before the Ghost Mother incident, you were an ordinary person. So, where did you learn all this?”
“I reviewed the reception room’s surveillance footage and watched the entire call. You showed no surprise at headquarters’ call and spoke fluently. You seem quite knowledgeable about ghost tamers themselves. Mr. Shen, may I ask why?”
Shen Lin smiled.
“Given the existence of fierce ghosts and Officer Zhang Ming’s intervention in Anhe Community, it’s reasonable to infer there is an organization. Based on this, my understanding of ghost tamers comes from my own experiments. I think it’s reasonable.”
Wang Xiaoming’s eyes narrowed. His confident smile made him look like a fox.
“Indeed, very reasonable.”
Both understood each other perfectly—a conversation between minds sharp enough to glean what they wanted from each other’s words.
“Then, Mr. Shen, beyond the resources I mentioned earlier, what else do you want?”
Shen Lin smiled.
“Professor Wang, if supernatural phenomena exist, then do you believe supernatural artifacts exist as well? Like in myths where gods always have divine weapons?”
“Indeed. So, Mr. Shen, what do you think the value of an artifact that can 100% block harm from fierce ghosts would be?”
“Priceless!”
“Then Mr. Shen, what chips do you have to trade?”
“One artifact per resolved supernatural incident,” Shen Lin demanded sky-high.
“Three!” Wang Xiaoming countered firmly.
“Two!” Shen Lin bargained.
“Not enough!” Wang Xiaoming said.
“What price do you think is fair, Professor Wang?” Shen Lin asked.
“I want you to join Interpol Headquarters as the interim head of Daxia City. On this basis, I hope to obtain some clues from you regarding certain key issues—just clues!” Wang Xiaoming’s narrowed eyes fully opened.
“Not enough!” Shen Lin countered. The information in his mind was almost revolutionary for this world.
“I will grant you exclusive redemption rights for ghost candles. Furthermore, if your clues aid my experiments, I will reward you generously according to the results,” Wang Xiaoming said.
“I want two ghost candles in advance.”
“Deal!”