Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

"Sinking wood, water-suppressing pattern, seven nail heads in the shape of the Big Dipper, the one inside, is not going to have a peaceful journey."

Chen Mo cupped his hands in greeting to the group and continued, "It's rather rare for a coffin to travel by water. Aren't you worried that the jolting might startle the guests?"

The old craftsman finally stopped wiping.

He patted the coffin lid, making a dull thud, "What needed to be laid to rest has been laid to rest. We are sending our guests home."

"Young man, you have a good eye." The old craftsman slowly straightened up and looked at Chen Mo. "What do you do for a living?"

"I make paper figures to earn a living," Chen Mo gestured to his cart. "It's not as good as the craftsmanship of the masters."

A strange light flashed in the old craftsman's cloudy eyes. He looked at the cart covered with a straw mat again and nodded. "No wonder you could tell the difference. But young man, your aura is not like that of an ordinary boy or girl."

Chen Mo remained noncommittal, his gaze sweeping over the dust on the young craftsmen, a color different from that in the Jinshi area—it was the red soil unique to the further south.

"From the south? The newspapers said there was a drought there the other day?"

The old craftsman sighed, looked around, and then lowered his voice, "When we left Yongzhou, horse-drawn carriages could already run on the river."

A young craftsman nearby couldn't help but interject, "It's not a natural disaster, something has appeared in the ground that has drained the water veins."

"Drought demon?" Chen Mo slowly uttered two words.

"You've heard about it too? That's right, the older generation is secretly spreading the word, probably because they've been attacked by a drought demon."

The old craftsman gave him a deep look. "Once this thing comes out, it won't just affect one or two counties. Along the way, we've already seen several waves of refugees, dragging their families along as they move towards places where there's still water."

"It won't be long before Linhe County is also filled with disaster victims from the south."

Chen Mo's gaze sharpened slightly: "Has the situation gotten that bad?"

"It will only get worse." The old craftsman's wrinkles deepened, and after thinking for a moment, he continued, "When we came here, we even bumped into another master in your paper-making business."

"The other party's surname is Chen. He was accompanied by a woman who looked rather unwell, and a bright girl of about ten years old."

"Master Chen, is there anything special about your appearance?" Chen Mo was a little stunned. Could it be such a coincidence?

In the original owner's memories, Chen Dachuan seemed to have gone south, but there was no news of him for more than three months.

"Tall and thin, square face, thick eyebrows," the old craftsman recalled. "There was an old scar on the right eyebrow, and a deep claw mark from the base of his thumb to his wrist on his left hand. But those hands were remarkably steady when they did paperwork."

A scar on the eyebrow, and claw marks on the tiger's mouth.

Chen Mo was speechless; the original owner was all too familiar with these two marks.

It was Chen Dachuan; he even kept a mistress outside the marriage?

"Are they also heading to Linhe?" Chen Mo's expression was somewhat complicated.

As for the original owner of this body, who was his adoptive father, he didn't have any deep feelings for him.

But since I've taken over someone else's body and inherited their memories and karma, I can't treat them like a stranger, can I?

"Yes, they're taking the land route, which is slower than ours. They're probably almost at Linhe County."

. . . . . .

Linhe County, Baishi Street, Du'e Zhai Courtyard.

Travel-worn Chen Dachuan pushed open the courtyard gate, followed by a pale-faced woman named Liu and a clever-looking six or seven-year-old girl.

The furnishings in the courtyard were exactly the same as when he left. Several half-finished paper figures on bamboo frames were covered with cloth, looking somewhat lonely in the twilight.

"This is the place. It's a bit shabby, but you two can make do with that brat's room tonight."

Chen Dachuan's voice was weary; the days of traveling and his heavy heart made him look more weathered than his actual age.

After settling Liu and her daughter in, he quickly walked to the next room.

He pushed open the door, walked straight to a black wooden cabinet in the corner, took out a key, and opened it.

The neatly stacked stack of Yin talisman paper inside is now reduced to just three thin sheets, lying forlornly at the bottom of the box.

"Only three left?!"

Chen Dachuan's face twitched with heartache. "That spendthrift brat! How long have I been out? Did he use it to cover the windows or what?!"

He remembered that when he left home, there was a thick stack of things in the suitcase.

That talisman paper cost a full ten silver dollars to buy, and he usually couldn't bear to use it.

I never imagined that after going out, it would be ruined and only a little bit left.

"They really don't care about the consequences of selling off their father's land!"

Chen Dachuan felt a tightness in his chest, slammed the cabinet door shut, and said, "I'll deal with him when I get back tonight!"

He took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and got up to walk towards the store.

I wonder if that brat has messed up the things in the cellar.

. . . . . .

In Jinshi, before it was completely dark, the streets were already lit up with dim yellow lights.

The tram clanged past, stirring up a gust of wind mixed with coal smoke and a faint scent of perfume.

Neon signs flickered on the second floor of some buildings, reflecting the hurried figures of people and the occasional black car that drove by, inside which sat the faceless dignitaries.

It's a completely different world from the nights in Linhe County.

This is only the outskirts of Tianjin; the city center is said to be even more bustling.

After a moment of reflection, Chen Mo pulled the cart covered with a straw mat and silently merged into the mingled crowd.

He had already sold off the gold and silver jewelry he obtained from the Black Tiger Gang for dark green banknotes with the Bank of Communications logo, in various denominations.

I exchanged a total of over 2,200 silver dollars, which I hid in a close-fitting inner pocket.

Right now, the hottest thing on his body is that bag of Yin soil, sealed tightly with oil paper and wax.

This item is very valuable and is a hard currency on the black market, but it also carries the greatest risk.

Although Jinshi was chaotic, the trade in Yin Earth was also deeply entrenched.

If someone unfamiliar with the area were to rashly approach you to sell your goods, it could very well lead to unnecessary trouble.

"If all else fails, take it to the ghost market and sell it!"

After a moment's thought, Chen Mo pulled the cart into the deepening night and headed towards the White Bone Pagoda in the west of the city.

The further west you go, the more deserted and dilapidated the streets become, with sparse and dim streetlights and low, old houses on both sides.

The urban glitz and restlessness in the air gradually faded away.

The White Bone Tower is not a real tower, but a slightly elevated barren hill, named for its long history as an execution ground and mass grave.

It is said that the ground is littered with white bones and has an extremely heavy yin energy.

Few people approach during the day, and at night it becomes a taboo place that Jinshi residents fear.

But precisely because of this, some shady deals are carried out here.

Over time, this created a ghost market that circulated only within a specific circle.

When Chen Mo arrived, the scarlet moon was obscured by thin clouds, with only a pale and blurry dark red moonlight shining through.

There were shadowy figures moving about at the edge of the barren hill, but they were all unusually quiet.

Even when speaking, he kept his voice extremely low, like a ghost's whisper.

No one carried lanterns or torches; both buyers and sellers wore masks and relied on the dim light of flashlights to see each other.

The items traded here are mostly of dubious origin or taboo.

Grave artifacts obtained through tomb raiding, stolen goods from wealthy families, firearms scattered from the military, and even some strange and unusual medicinal herbs and talismans.