Gasp! She's a Time Traveler Using Modern Tech to Improve Ancient Life-Chapter 635 - 633: Targeted

It’s been a long time since coming home, and a thin layer of dust had gathered in the room.

Lin Wanwan checked the small villa from top to bottom, no signs of a burglary.

It seems the intimidation of the German Shepherd Fugui still has some effect, and the newly replaced security at the gate wasn’t for nothing. A group of security guards practiced military body boxing in formation every morning and evening, not just to provide shallow talk for the neighborhood grandmas and grandpas.

Lin Wanwan tidied up some medicinal herbs in the TCM room on the first floor, then sat in front of the computer browsing videos, spending an hour updating a Chapter of a novel that had been discontinued for several days, followed by taking two online courses on farming and weaving.

When everything was done, it was already late, and Lin Wanwan simply washed up and went to bed, feeling nostalgic for sleeping in her own room.

This bed is made of Yellow Flower Pear Wood from the Great Tang, with a full mortise and tenon structure. It was custom-made by Lin Wanwan at a Great Tang craftsman and brought back to the modern age to assemble herself.

Sleeping felt particularly secure, and she soon fell into a deep sleep.

During her sleep, not far outside her villa, a deliveryman tugged at the collar of his delivery uniform and pulled down the brim of his helmet, calmly riding his electric bike away.

The distinctive little yellow bike quickly headed out towards the countryside under the night sky, without anyone along the way sparing a glance.

The city streets were full of their shadows; too common, as everyone had gotten used to it.

About forty minutes later, the electric bike traveled along a stretch of mountain road, stopping at a courtyard of a newly renovated rural building.

Compared to the villages closer to the main road, this area was quite secluded, hence there weren’t many young people living here.

At night, the village’s elderly residents would lock up and rest early, with little in the way of nightlife.

The courtyard where the little yellow bike was parked belonged to a new style mansion that screamed wealth, its exterior unified to match the renovated rural design, but from the open gate you could see the interior was lavishly furnished.

The master of the mansion wasn’t young anymore, looking to be at least over fifty.

Yet his gaze was sharp, his coarse hands rough from handling wood were strong, clearly a testament to a lifetime of heavy labor, far from comparable to the idle video game youths.

The man who dismounted from the little yellow bike removed his helmet, revealing a weathered and pale, thirty-something face.

Without speaking, he parked the electric bike and fetched a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to the older man working under a dazzling crystal chandelier.

Facing the tossed cigarette, the old carpenter caught it with a swift raised hand, as though he had eyes on the back of his head.

He paused his work, squatting at the threshold with the weathered man, smoking silently, and asked, "It’s the fishing ban season, boats are hard to operate."

The weathered man took a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling smoke as he said, "You don’t need to worry about that, the situation is too intense, I can’t hide out anymore. Old Pan, help me with this job, seventy-thirty split, seventy for you, thirty for me. I’ve already scouted the tomb, just behind the mountain. Once we have the good stuff, I’ll immediately set out to sea."

He gestured to the electric bike parked in the courtyard, smiling with a mouthful of smoke-stained teeth: "I just acquired this bike today; the GPS has been removed, you can sell the battery for some money, it’s quite new."

"Do I need a battery?" the old carpenter said heavily, "Kid, you’re quite breaking the rules this time, where’s your uncle?"

"Rules are meant to be broken," the weathered man quipped with a grin.

At those words, a cold gleam flashed in the carpenter’s eyes; he wasn’t really named Pan, it was just a wandering alias.

Orphaned since childhood and childless in old age, alone in the world, he had roamed far and wide for decades, only returning two years ago when the village underwent rural renovations, finally sort of coming home in glory.

He had little interaction with the villagers, occasionally caring for some unfortunate women at nightclubs or salons.

In his youth, he apprenticed under a master carpenter for over ten years; when the master vanished, he left Yongcheng and sought work elsewhere.

The villagers knew he was skilled in carpentry, and after he returned these past two years, they tried hiring him for work, but he always dismissed it, preferring work far from home and bigger tasks.

He enjoyed work that was far from his nest, where he could exercise his creativity.

His collaboration with this tomb robber, adept at locating tombs and digging holes, had been quite fruitful. He killed people, and he and his uncle were responsible for burying them in ancient tombs, without a trace.

Both were desperadoes, capable of taking lives of those with unstable social ties without blinking.

Missing persons and murder cases differ vastly; the time and energy the police invest aren’t even close.

So they’d been working smoothly for over a decade, without any issues.

But this time, the young tomb robber sought him out quietly, which made him very unhappy.

If not for the 20,000 cash offered by the tomb robber and the silencer gun in his mountain backpack, he would’ve flipped out long ago.

Finishing his cigarette, the old carpenter flicked the butt away, stepped on it decisively to extinguish the ember, and strode indoors without looking back: "Tomorrow night we act."

In Huaxia, it’s hard for professional killers to find a suitable environment to thrive. But this old carpenter collaborating with the tomb robbing gang hinted at something close.

The tomb robber coming all this way to seek out the old carpenter was out of sheer desperation.

He knew the old carpenter wasn’t ordinary, assigning him burial jobs every three months, paying readily, and the cash was always genuine.

Such a person was not to be trifled with; those behind were even less so.

But he had no choice, as their entire group had been taken down, leaving him like a street rat being chased everywhere.

To be frank, earning their kind of money wasn’t something a highly intelligent genius would do—just dabbling in the underworld. Facing official forces, their criminal acts appeared too crude.

There’s no perfect crime, as criminal tolerance is low. Most can’t improve much, often getting caught after just a few jobs.

If they were truly capable and wise, they’d earn money standing bright and shiny without putting themselves through the criminal codes.

For instance, donning a traditional gown, becoming a sound expert or archaeologist, the money they conned on TV would far outstrip their tomb robbery sales, and it would be safer.

If caught, they’d be sent to Qin Mountain Prison, not arrested by some junior cop.

Alas, they weren’t that smart nor strong!

Thus faced with Lu Shouyue, who not only boasted intelligence and financial prowess but also dared openly call the cops, they were utterly crushed, disbanded completely.