Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

"What should we do then?"

Old Zhou stepped forward, "Master, should we wait until the rain stops before...?"

Qian the Cripple waved his hand: "We can't wait. If we drag this out overnight, the scent on the chair will become even fainter."

He turned the bronze mirror over so that the mirror surface was facing up, put the paper back on, took out the dagger he always carried, and cut a slit in his index finger.

Blood beads appeared, deep red, and he pinched his fingers and dripped them onto the bronze mirror.

One drop, two drops, three drops.

The blood fell onto the mirror, but instead of spreading, it congealed into three blood droplets.

Qian the Cripple put his finger in his mouth and sucked on it, then spat into his palm and wiped it on the mirror.

He wiped away the three beads of blood, leaving three red streaks on the mirror's surface, before lifting the bronze mirror to face the chair.

"The sun rises brightly in the east."

I now pursue the spirit, undeterred by wind and frost.

Though the rain obstructs the road, my anger does not cease.

"The image appears in the mirror; come quickly to my side."

As he continued reciting, a layer of fog suddenly appeared on the surface of the bronze mirror.

Qian the Cripple's eyes lit up, and he read on even faster:

"The sky is clear and the earth is fertile, and the three or five meet together."

Chasing after his soul for thousands of miles, leaving no trace.

"Hurry, hurry, as the law commands! Seize!"

As the last word fell, the fog on the bronze mirror suddenly dissipated, and the mirror surface became clear.

The clarity was fleeting.

Immediately afterwards, a blurry shadow appeared on the mirror.

The shadow swayed, sometimes thick, sometimes thin, as if looking at something through a layer of water.

Old Zhou leaned over to take a look, but was glared at and shrank back.

The reflection on the mirror became clearer and clearer.

First there was a wall, then a window, and then a tree.

Pomegranate tree?

Qian the Cripple's hand trembled, and the mirror almost fell onto the chair.

He knows this tree so well that he could draw it with his eyes closed.

The pomegranate tree in the yard was planted by him twenty years ago, and it bears fruit every autumn.

Qian the Cripple suddenly looked up at the door, but there was nothing outside.

There was only the pouring rain and the pomegranate tree, drenched by the rain and unable to lift its head.

"Master?" Boss Zhou noticed that his expression was off and asked in a low voice.

Qian the Cripple ignored him, turned around and rushed to the door.

It's still raining.

There was nothing in the yard.

Only the pomegranate tree, the puddle beneath it, and the moon gate reflected in the puddle.

"Master?" Boss Zhou followed over. "What's wrong?"

Qian the Cripple didn't say anything, but turned around and walked back into the house with a serious expression. He picked up the bronze mirror and looked at it again.

The image in the mirror has disappeared.

Only the three red marks remained, crookedly imprinted on it, the blood already dried and turned dark red.

He stared at the dark red bloodstains for a long time, then suddenly laughed.

"Good, very good."

Old Zhou mustered his courage and asked, "Master, that person—"

"Outside," Qian the Cripple interrupted him, "right in our yard."

The three apprentices were taken aback and turned to look at the door.

There was only the sound of pouring rain outside.

"Get your tools of the trade ready."

"Tonight," Qian the Cripple turned around, his eyes burning brighter than ever, "we have a distinguished guest."

As soon as he finished speaking, Boss Zhou felt a chill on the back of his neck.

It felt like something cold was climbing up my spine.

He turned around in shock, only to find the room empty except for the dim light that cast long, thin shadows of the four people inside.

"Strange, where did the wind come from?"

Old Zhou scratched his head, and when he turned around again, the shadow on the ground had come to life.

The four dark shadows that were originally lying flat on the ground began to churn violently like boiling ink, and four humanoid figures were rapidly coalescing.

Something's not right!

Qian the Cripple was the first to notice something was wrong. He looked down at the ground, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

Darkness gathered wildly on the shadow's shoulder.

First came the rounded outline, then the slender neck, and in the blink of an eye, a human head emerged from the shadow.

It wasn't a real head, but a face as white as paper.

Her eyebrows and eyes were outlined with thick ink, her blush was painted a bright, garish scarlet, and a bizarre smile that stretched from her lips to her ears was forcibly drawn on her lips.

Qian the Cripple opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt as if it were blocked by something.

In that instant, the four black figures simultaneously completed their transformation.

With a sickening rustling sound, four complete paper figures rose from the shadows.

They are pure white, and each one holds a paper knife as thin as a cicada's wing.

The paper knife gleamed with a chilling light under the lamp, exuding a sharpness capable of severing the soul.

"kill."

The four paper puppets tilted their heads at the same time, their smiling faces showing no change in expression. The paper knives in their hands turned into four white lights, heading straight for the vital points of the master and his disciples.

Qian the Cripple was a seasoned veteran of decades, and his reaction in a life-or-death situation was extremely quick.

Seeing four white lights coming towards him, he reached out with his wrist and found four copper coins already in his palm.

These are not ordinary copper coins.

The coin is badly worn, and the four characters "Taiping Tongbao" are still faintly visible, but the edges are worn very thin, as thin as a knife.

These are special copper coins made by the itinerant knife sellers; money can communicate with the gods, but it can also kill.

"Get down!"

With a loud shout, four copper coins flew out of his hand.

The moment he made his move, the cripple's thumb brushed across each coin, a gesture reminiscent of the knife-wielding man's past work.

The edges of the copper coin were already thinned by the wear, and with this touch, a layer of cold gleam was forcibly grown.

Four golden lines streaked across the air, landing precisely on the blades of the four paper knives.

"Ding ding ding ding—"

Four crisp sounds rang out as the paper knife cleaved open.

The paper puppets' hands, gripping the knives, trembled slightly, but they immediately swung them towards their respective targets.

Taking advantage of the opening, Zhou Laoda rolled backward, his back knocking over the offering table, scattering incense burners and candles all over the ground.

Ignoring the pain, he scrambled to his feet and huddled in the corner, pulling a sharp old kitchen knife from his waist.

A yellow talisman was wrapped around the blade, and the runes drawn with cinnabar on the talisman paper still glowed with a dark red light.

......

Zhao Chen had actually made his move the moment the paper puppet appeared.

People who are quick on their feet usually have quick minds too.

The moment Qian the Cripple mentioned that a distinguished guest had arrived, his heart leaped into his throat.

When in his life has Master ever mentioned a distinguished guest?

Those who are called "distinguished guests" are most likely there to take one's life.

The moment the paper knife stabbed at him, Zhao Chen didn't dodge to the side, but instead lunged forward in a completely different way.

"Master, save me!"

He rolled over like a lazy donkey and rolled right up to the feet of the cripple, Qian.

The paper puppet chasing him missed its target with its slash, the tip barely grazing the back of its head and shaving off a few strands of hair.

Zhao Chen lay on the ground, feeling the wind from the blade sweeping past his head, making his scalp tingle with cold.

Before he could get up, the paper puppet suddenly paused, and for some reason let him go, joining another paper puppet in attacking Qian the Cripple.

Zhao Chen's eyes darted around, and without thinking about why, he got up and rushed towards the courtyard.

This time, no one stopped him.

Two paper puppets were entangled by their master, while the other two were still attacking their eldest and second eldest brothers, so no one could spare any attention for him.

As he stepped out the door, the cold rain poured down on his face, making him shiver.

We finally escaped!

The torrential rain blurred his vision. He wiped his face, looked thankfully at the door that was just a stone's throw away, then suddenly stopped in his tracks...

Boom—

In the instant the lightning flashed, he saw a person standing in the courtyard.

The man stood under the pomegranate tree, completely soaked.

My skin was white and swollen from being soaked in water for seven days and seven nights.

Her hair was plastered to her face, obscuring her features.

But Zhao Chen could see its eyes.

Those eyes don't reflect light.

It was dark and gloomy, like two holes staring at him.