Dream Delivery System: My Delivery Jobs Keep Changing History – CH153

Chapter 153

“Is this the plant he sent over?”

The director of Research Institute No. 27 stared, dumbfounded, at the large truck pulling in. She had assumed that when Jiang Jitang mentioned “plant samples,” he meant potted plants that could be carried away. Instead, what he sent were over a dozen century-old trees — and one of them was even specially marked as a “special-effect plant.”

It was the apple tree in the middle, escorted by armed military police.

In addition, there were three mulberry saplings, which were said to absorb the negative energy left behind in zones affected by supernatural terror. Their fruit also carried extraordinary medical properties.

Those century-old trees were the ones dug up after the Niu tribe’s wedding a while back. He had forgotten to send them earlier, so he delivered them now along with the apple tree.

The mulberry saplings were “urged into being” by the old mulberry tree itself, shedding tears as it produced nine in total. Five were sent out to four different regions to help the cleanup teams finish their jobs (his own team got one extra — the strongest little sapling baby). One was left beside the old mulberry tree, and three were delivered to this research institute.

The director instructed the soldiers to move the trees into the tallest greenhouse chamber. Security guards at the entrance inspected everything thoroughly.

As the items Jiang Jitang provided became more valuable, the institute’s confidentiality level skyrocketed.

The ten breeding sheep from last time had already become a key breakthrough project. Now that basic needs were covered, good health had become the pursuit of everyone in this era. The sheep were incredibly valuable.

If they mastered the breeding techniques and tightly controlled the seed stock, they could use it to drain funds from other countries — just as those countries once used their high-yield plants and animals to drain their money.

Also, since the original species came from Jiang Jitang, three percent of all profits generated from the breeding stock for the next fifty years would legally belong to Jiang Jitang.

It was written into the contract and carried legal effect.

Originally, they proposed only one percent of pure profit. Later, it became three percent — to encourage him to continue sending the “rare varieties he happened to acquire.”

Jiang Jitang didn’t mind. That money was basically “picked up for free.” And as his rights expanded, he found more and more opportunities to “pick up money,” just like now — Zong Zheng and Zong Yao had come to him wanting to collaborate on developing a “virtual online game,” offering extremely favorable terms.

“I remember your family is in the appliance business,” he said, making time to meet them because they showed sincerity. “What made you think of making an online game?”

“That’s my elder uncle’s business, not mine.”
Zong Zheng smiled while brewing tea for him, every movement naturally carrying a sense of deference — none of the quiet arrogance he had during their first meeting.

He evolved again, Jiang Jitang thought.

Zong Yao was also more low-key than the first time. It seemed everyone was growing.

“Even so, you should look for someone else. I can’t help with any of this.”
Jiang Jitang politely declined.

The virtual game Zong Zheng wanted to make was based on the Cube World — essentially a “simulation dungeon.” The other collaborators he found were either top domestic rendering companies or hardware developers for virtual-game devices. Approaching Jiang Jitang was simply to borrow his official status, but Jiang Jitang cared about his reputation and didn’t want to get involved in this kind of thing.

“To have someone like ‘President Jiang’ support me is already the greatest help.”
Zong Zheng smiled, openly acknowledging his intentions.

“Anyone conducting legal business in the Eastern District is my person,” Jiang Jitang replied. “If you want to build a dungeon network in the East, as long as your paperwork is legal, of course we will support it.”

“To be direct, I want the official data of those closed dungeons.”
Zong Zheng’s expression turned serious. “I have some, but nowhere near the amount and detail the official side has.”

Many civilian players who established contact with the government had submitted their dungeon experiences in exchange for points and items. So the official closed-dungeon archives were indeed the most complete.

Jiang Jitang thought for a moment.
“When your online game and equipment pass safety testing, bring your proposal and come see me again. Someone will handle the specifics.”

This sort of thing should be left to professionals. If he didn’t understand it, he wouldn’t make promises or meddle.

Zong Zheng seemed satisfied with this single sentence. The rest of their meeting was just tea and snacks, without further talk on the subject.

After Jiang Jitang left, Zong Yao, who had been holding back, finally blurted, “Brother, is this enough? Did President Jiang agree? What did he mean just now?”

“No matter whether we end up cooperating or not, as long as he knows about this, our initial goal is achieved.”
Zong Zheng drank his now-cold tea.

His goal wasn’t to become one of “President Jiang’s people,” but to have Jiang Jitang know of their project — to gain his occasional attention. Others had thought of the same idea; competition was fierce. Being noticed meant winning half the battle.

He was greedy, but he wasn’t stupid. With Jiang Jitang’s current status, he would not easily step into the arena.

Two months ago, Jiang Jitang was just an ordinary player. He had healing tools, but nothing special. Who could have predicted he’d reach this status now?

Thinking of this, a bitterness rose in Zong Zheng’s heart. Heroes rise from circumstance — but he wasn’t the hero.

A few days ago, he heard news that the Eastern District cleanup team had killed several foreign players in a dungeon for murdering Xia-country players — all according to Xia’s laws. Then he knew: the government’s authority was fully established.

Two paths lay before him: go to another country to develop, or pledge loyalty.

He chose loyalty.

The welfare for Xia’s players was too good. Who would willingly leave?

Money could buy most things — but how could it buy the special-effect dishes and magical beasts from the Food-Fulfillment Food House? His younger brother was obsessed with magical beasts to the point he could barely walk straight. And he himself longed for the legendary super special-effect dishes said to enhance physical fitness just by eating them. Unfortunately, those were exclusively for Eastern District officials — from the Eastern District boss, President Jiang.

“If I had known this day would come…” Zong Zheng murmured, finishing his cold tea.

—

After more than ten days of busy official duties, it was time to release new tasks. This would be the final task set for the Rogue World World. After this, he had to seriously consider whether to use one of his precious binding slots.

“Hm?”
This sounded familiar. Did he say the same thing last month?

“System, what are the tasks this time?”

Task 1: Please help An prepare a ritual-dance costume. Funding: 160 yuan, or one bone flute. Note: use fabric. (Difficulty: ??. Countdown: 144:17:36)

Task 2: Please find a foster family for the child of the moon. Funding: 6000 yuan, or one rare herb. Note: find a tribe that can truly accept him. (Difficulty: ????. Countdown: 77:46:33)

Task 3: Please retrieve Qi’s wooden canoe. Funding: 54 yuan, or a jar of clay beads. Note: the canoe was pushed into the sea by mischievous monkeys. (Difficulty: ??. Countdown: 126:35:14)’

Judging from the short descriptions, none seemed too hard.

But Jiang Jitang didn’t get overconfident. He spent three minutes scanning the full details before accepting all three.

“Three tasks, three abandoned ones — what a coincidence. It feels intentional.”
He sighed. “Let’s start with the second one. Only three days to prepare.”

The child of the moon referred to a child with albinism — unable to face sunlight, with white skin and hair.

On modern Blue Star, no one would abandon a child just because of albinism. But in the harsh Rogue World, resources had to be concentrated on children with better chances of survival. Children born with defects might be abandoned.

This task’s target was an albino toddler. His parents had struggled to raise him for three years, but after giving birth to another child, they no longer had the strength to raise two.

So, he was abandoned.

The child seemed aware of his fate. He didn’t cry — he just sat there, waiting for nightfall and the beasts that would enter the forest. Beasts didn’t discriminate as long as something could fill their stomach.

“He’s not completely resigned — just powerless to resist reality. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made a wish the system picked up.”
Everything had a survival instinct, and so did this child.

“Is it because of the white hair? He looks a bit like Pars… Parsens.”
Jiang Jitang suddenly thought of Parsons.

Parsons of the magic world also had white hair. As the church’s sharpest blade, he spent nearly every day hunting cultists and demons, earning the nickname “White-Haired Ghost.”

Before meeting him on the Hattusa Plains, Jiang Jitang imagined the church’s paladin as a bloody sword formed of bones and frost.

But remembering that meeting brought a soft sweetness to his eyes.

“Didn’t expect the white to be so beautiful.”
It looked nothing like bone — more like whipped cream piled atop honey cake.

Parsons’s deadly coldness was only a protective layer. Inside, he was a little princess who didn’t understand the world; whatever Jiang Jitang said, he believed — always confused and easy to deceive.

Jiang Jitang had lied to countless people — the old, the young, women — his heart cold as iron. Yet strangely, he felt guilty toward Parsons.

“All the church’s fault.”
He shifted blame to his old rival with practice.

Parsons had been raised in the church since childhood — training, books, curated food, arranged “friends,” fabricated “chance encounters.” Everything he saw was carefully filtered and pruned. His whole life was scripted.

They didn’t raise him like a child; they shaped him like a holy puppet.

So Jiang Jitang deliberately broke their perfect world and led their polished paladin astray.

He took him out of inns to watch the desert galaxy merge with the sky. He took him to the snowy mountaintops to witness glacier sunrises.

They walked longer and longer together, until he nearly forgot this had begun as a prank.

“Parsi,” Jiang Jitang thought of him and immediately called. “Busy?”

“Not busy.”
Parsons quietly closed the door, blocking others’ curious gazes.

“I just accepted a task. The client is a child of the moon. Seeing that white hair reminded me of you.”

Parsons touched his long hair falling across his chest. It wasn’t pure white — it had a metallic sheen — different from albinism.

Jiang Jitang explained the task: he needed to find a new home for the abandoned child.

Parsons opened his mouth. He felt the child wasn’t like him at all — more like Jiang Jitang. The Jiang Jitang of the magic world.

Noble children usually had their talents tested by age five. Fate was decided then.

For Illman, it was earlier — at three. When his talent was declared nonexistent, his father immediately brought his mistress and illegitimate child into the castle, as if they were the real family.

Illman’s mother, constantly tormented, jumped from the tower years later. Officially, she “died of illness.”

With no parents to protect him, seen as an abandoned heir, even stable boys’ children dared bully him. Without the butler and his maid, he might have disappeared entirely.

Back then, Parsons had thought — if Illman’s talent had manifested early enough to be tested at five, maybe his life would’ve been different.

He didn’t know yet that Illman’s talent was bought with his lifespan.

Still, his chest ached faintly — as if a child from the past had been lost and left behind at age three, waiting for someone to bring him home.

He crossed from the magic world to Blue Star just to bring him home.

But now…

He already had a home. He didn’t need Parsons anymore.

“Parsi.”

Parsons returned to himself.

“Parsi, let’s do this task together. I’ll show you how big the world can be.”

Parsons tilted his head slightly, avoiding the sunlight from the window. Only the reflection in the black glass revealed the emotion he couldn’t hide.

“…Okay.”