Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

Chen Mo wasn't particularly surprised by any of this; the original owner's memories made him familiar with the environment.

He avoided the crowded main streets and instead chose to travel through quiet alleys and residential areas.

The addresses of the households we were looking for were pieced together from scattered conversations among neighbors and the original owner's vague memories, so they weren't entirely accurate.

The first household was said to be an old man who worked at the docks. He was severely injured by the Black Tiger Gang for refusing to pay dock fees. He had no money for treatment and died after half a month.

Her son went to sea and disappeared without a trace, leaving only his old wife.

Chen Mo wandered around the sewage-filled shantytown for a long time before finally finding the low-lying shack.

An old woman with cloudy eyes sat by the door, picking up rotten vegetable leaves.

Chen Mo stepped forward and bowed slightly: "Grandma, I have something to ask you. I work at the paper-making shop on South Street. I heard that an elder in your family passed away some time ago?"

"Our shop recently received a commission from a kind-hearted person who wants to send some money for the deceased to some bereaved families as a token of their sympathy. We also need some old items as a starting point..."

The old woman raised her cloudy eyes and looked him over warily, her fingers trembling slightly, especially when she heard the word "rebirth money".

She remained silent for a long time before finally saying in a hoarse voice, "It's gone, long gone... nothing left... those damned bastards..."

Before she could finish speaking, tears rolled down her cheeks. She lowered her head, ignoring Chen Mo, and mechanically picked up the vegetable leaves.

Knowing he wouldn't get any answers, Chen Mo couldn't bear to press further and silently retreated.

There was no medium he needed here.

Another household was a couple who ran a food stall. The man was extorted for stall fees by the Black Tiger Gang. When they couldn't get the money, their stall was smashed. During the argument, he was pushed to the ground and hit his head on a rock, dying instantly.

The woman sold her belongings, buried her husband, and disappeared without a trace.

Chen Mo found the vicinity of the original stall and asked a shoe repairman next to it.

The shoemaker puffed on his pipe and shook his head: "She moved away a long time ago, poor thing... When that woman left, she didn't take anything with her, just a bundle, and went to her relatives' house in the west of the city, right? I don't know."

The trail went cold again.

The western part of the city is too big; there's no way to start looking.

Chen Mo's heart sank slightly.

There was another family, the Shen family, who sold tofu.

Shen's son was a hothead. When his sister was being harassed by a minor leader of the Black Tiger Gang, he went to confront him and was beaten to death in the street. Many people witnessed the incident.

The old man of the Shen family was so angry that he vomited blood, and he passed away not long after, leaving only the old woman of the Shen family and the daughter who was almost violated to depend on each other for survival.

It is said that they are still in the same place because the small tofu workshop is rented and they have nowhere else to go.

Chen Mo's spirits lifted, and he turned toward the street where Shen's tofu shop was located.

It was a narrow, damp alley, and the tofu shop was at the entrance of the alley.

The storefront was small and closed at the moment, cold and deserted. Even the usual aroma of tofu was gone, replaced by a faint sour smell.

The white mourning couplets pasted on the door had long since faded and were damaged, fluttering slightly in the wind.

Chen Mo stepped forward and gently knocked on the door.

After a long while, the door opened a crack, revealing the pale and haggard face of a young girl with red and swollen eyes, looking wary.

Who are you looking for?

"Are you from the Shen family?" Chen Mo tried to keep his voice calm. "I'm from the Du'e Zhai paper-making shop. My father... received some help from Old Man Shen before. I heard something happened at home, so I came to check on things."

The girl's guard lessened slightly when she heard about Du'e Zhai, but her eyes reddened even more when her father was mentioned.

She glanced back into the room before whispering, "My mother is ill...it's not convenient for her to receive guests."

"I'm not going in, I just want to say a few words," Chen Mo said in a low voice. "I know who the Black Tiger Gang members were who killed Brother Shen, right?"

The girl suddenly looked up, her eyes flashing with intense hatred, her lips trembling.

He didn't speak, but his eyes said it all.

"I hate them too." Chen Mo's voice was even softer, but it carried a heavy weight of shared sorrow. "My father is gone, and they've driven my shop to the brink of collapse. I can't openly help you, but... I want to try and see if I can make those beasts taste their own retribution."

He paused, looking at the girl's eyes, which suddenly lit up with doubt, and continued, "I need some of Brother Shen's personal belongings, anything will do, a corner of a worn garment or a towel or blanket..."

"I'm not making any guarantees, I just... want to give it a try."

The girl bit her lip tightly, tears streaming silently down her face.

She glanced back at the room, as if she had made up her mind, and quickly said, "Wait a minute." The door closed gently.

A moment later, the door opened a crack again, and the girl handed out a faded blue coarse cloth bag, which felt very light.

"It was a small piece of cloth cut from the new trousers Mother made for my brother last year for his birthday... He only wore it once..." She choked up and couldn't continue.

Chen Mo solemnly accepted it, and upon touching it, he could feel the texture of the coarse cloth and the lingering scent of soapberry.

"Thank you. This matter is between heaven, earth, you, and me."

He carefully tucked the cloth bag into his bosom, then took out the few copper coins he had left and stuffed them into the girl's hand, saying, "Get some medicine for the old lady."

Before the girl could refuse, he quickly turned around and strode away from the alleyway filled with sorrow and hatred.

The hustle and bustle of the street filled my ears again: rickshaw bells rang, vendors hawked their wares, and the mournful sound of a huqin drifted from a teahouse… This bustling world seemed to be a world apart from the desolate alleyway I had just passed through.

"I heard that the leader of the Black Tiger Gang is a martial arts expert."

Halfway there, Chen Mo suddenly remembered something and stopped. "We need to add some insurance."

.......

By the time Chen Mo dragged his heavy steps back to Du'e Zhai, it was already nearly dusk.

Shops on Funeral Street began putting up their door panels early in the morning, the clanging sound adding to the desolate atmosphere.

He closed the door, separating the inside from the outside, and leaned against the door, breathing slightly heavily.

The Yin energy within my body seemed to be more active due to today's hustle and bustle, and a dull ache came from my chest.

Thankfully, I got everything.

He touched the cloth bag in his arms and quickly walked towards his room...

Meanwhile, in the western part of Linhe County, the atmosphere in a three-courtyard house occupied by the Black Tiger Gang was quite different from the desolate atmosphere of Du'e Zhai, but it was not exactly relaxed either.

The main hall of the mansion was brightly lit.

In the center of the armchair sat a man in his early forties. He was not particularly burly, even somewhat lean. But he had a broad frame, and his eyes were half-open, occasionally flashing with a sharp glint, like a lurking beast.

This is Lei Laohu, the leader of the Black Tiger Gang. The glint in his eyes is a testament to his mastery of internal energy.

On the mahogany octagonal table in front of him lay a thick account book.

Scarface stood with his hands at his sides on the left. The scar on his face looked somewhat ferocious under the light, but his expression was quite respectful, even carrying a hint of barely perceptible unease.

On the right stood Mr. Xu, a thin man with a rat-like beard, holding a small sandalwood abacus in his hand, occasionally flicking it with his fingertips, producing a soft, crisp sound.

The hall was quiet, with only Mr. Xu occasionally whispering numbers and the sound of Lei Laohu's fingers lightly tapping the table.