Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

Chapter 260 Taking Stock of the Harvest

Liu Qi took two steps back and subconsciously tightened his grip on the chain around his waist.

"That old man has gone mad."

Ghost Banner Taoist squatted on the wall, his banner shielding him. "He's already transforming into that thing. Before he's completely finished, hurry..."

Before he could finish speaking, a voice rang out from the shadows.

"Kill him."

Liu Qi paused for a moment, then turned to look in the direction from which the sound came.

Chen Mo was standing in the corner of the alleyway at some point, almost blending into the shadows.

Only a wrinkled face was visible, its eyes reflecting the dim light of the red moon overhead.

"Master Chen..." Liu Qi swallowed and bent over.

The others also lowered their heads.

Chen Mo ignored them, his gaze falling on the mutated Old Wu, and said calmly, "Things that have mutated are no different from those in the jar; subduing them is useless."

"Kill him to prove your worth, otherwise..."

Before he could finish speaking, the faces of the people present turned pale at the same time, and they understood what he meant.

Either it dies, or they die.

Only one of them can survive.

Liu Qi gritted her teeth: "I'll listen to Master Chen."

The death-snatching bell at his waist suddenly rang, and the seven black mists reformed, this time even more ferocious than before, rushing straight towards Old Wu's face.

The young man flipped forward from the side, slashing horizontally with his short sword, the blade gleaming with a faint blue light.

Five people attacked at the same time.

Old Wu raised his head, the gash on the left side of his face wide open, and let out a sharp scream.

A grayish-white thing emerged from the mouth and shot rapidly toward the nearest middle-aged woman.

Chen Mo stopped watching the battle and didn't even bother to glance at the mutated Old Wu.

This kind of malevolent force no longer poses a threat to me.

He reached out and beckoned to Old Wu's box, and the wicker box, guided by magic, flew steadily into Chen Mo's hand.

The lid was half open, revealing a few miscellaneous items inside.

Chen Mo placed the box on his lap, rummaged through it a couple of times, and pulled out the sword wrapped in three layers of old cloth from the bottom.

The cloth strips were unfurled, revealing the jet-black blade of the sword.

It has no handle, is perfectly formed, and gleams with a faint, cold light under the red moon.

The sword was spotless, without any patterns or runes, as clean as a piece of charcoal that had been burning for a thousand years.

Chen Mo raised the sword to his eyes and lightly scratched the spine of the blade with his thumb.

No response.

But one could sense with one's divine sense that there was an extremely sharp edge inside the sword.

"You've been hiding for three years and no one recognizes you. From now on, you can hang out with me."

Chen Mo said something in a low voice, then wrapped the sword again and put it back into his storage space.

He rummaged through the stall again and pulled out a gray cloth money bag from under the miscellaneous items.

The bag was tied tightly with hemp rope. When it was untied, a thick stack of legal tender was found inside, along with dozens of loose silver dollars.

I roughly counted them, and there were about 2,300 coins, which wasn't a very large number.

"Two thousand three hundred and seventy, that's poor?"

Chen Mo tied the money bag and stuffed it into his pocket. After taking out all the items inside, he casually tossed the rattan box into the corner of the wall.

Just then, he suddenly frowned.

The paper figures positioned on the perimeter sensed a group of powerful experts approaching them.

There were quite a few, and the speed was very fast.

Chen Mo raised his head and glanced towards the alley entrance.

"The people from the Bureau of Suppression of Strange Things have arrived."

"Let's retreat. Let them deal with this monster themselves."

Liu Qi was being forced to retreat by the mutated Old Wu. Upon hearing this, his expression relaxed, and he jumped back to create distance.

The monster hissed, stretching out its forked tongue, as if trying to chase after it.

The death-snatching bell at his waist suddenly rang, and three vengeful ghosts pounced on him and entangled him for a moment. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the group followed Chen Mo into a narrow alley and turned a few times. The roars and footsteps behind them gradually faded into the distance.

Shouts came from behind the Zhenyi Division personnel, followed by a muffled explosion.

A beam of white light shot into the sky from the direction where Lao Wu was, illuminating half of the night sky.

Half an hour later, at an inconspicuous inn in the south of the city.

Chen Mo booked four rooms. He and the middle-aged woman named Hong Gu each had a room, while the others shared rooms in pairs.

The room was much larger than the inn in town, and besides the bed, there was also an elm wood square table by the window.

Two hardwood chairs, a white porcelain teapot and four upside-down teacups on the table.

A dark brown wardrobe, about half a person's height, stood in the corner, its brass handles polished to a shine.

Chen Mo sat down on the hardwood chair, raised his hand and moved the white porcelain teapot on the table to the side, making room for it.

He then closed his eyes, and his consciousness slowly spread out throughout the room, centered on himself.

From the next room came the sound of Hong Gu pouring water, and from the next room came the whispers of Liu Qi and Gui Fan Dao Ren. Downstairs, behind the counter, the shopkeeper's breathing was even, as if he were asleep.

The alleys surrounding the inn were deserted, with a few stray cats hiding under the walls. There was no sign of cultivators or evil spirits.

After condensing the evil energy, his spiritual sense range had increased to fifty meters.

This distance is sufficient to spot anything suspicious in the surroundings.

everything is normal.

Chen Mo opened his eyes, and with a thought, four pitch-black humanoid figures silently rose from the shadows beneath his feet.

The shadow puppet was more solid and its outline was clearer than before.

They spread out against the wall, one crouching in the shadows by the windowsill, another hidden in the gap between the wardrobe and the wall, and the remaining two guarding either side of the door.

After the shadow puppet was in place, Chen Mo took out the storage bag of Master Baidu from his pocket.

The bag was only the size of a palm, grayish-black in color, and made of some kind of unknown leather. It felt cool and smooth to the touch. The opening of the bag was tied with a red rope, and a black bead the size of a grain of rice was attached to the knot.

After Master Baidu died, the divine imprint on the storage bag naturally dissipated.

Now that it's unclaimed, Chen Mo can easily imprint his mark on it with his divine sense.

The space is about one cubic meter, much smaller than his storage space, but if he were to sell it, a large number of people would probably fight tooth and nail for it.

In the years following the arrival of the Red Moon, storage magic treasures became increasingly rare, and possessing even one was considered an immense stroke of luck.

Even core disciples of major sects may not all have this, let alone independent cultivators.

The fact that Master Baidu was able to make a name for himself in the unorthodox world was probably partly due to this storage bag.

Chen Mo untied the red string from the bag and took things out.

The first thing they pulled out was a palm-sized iron box, heavy with a bat pattern with outstretched wings engraved on the lid and surrounded by fine runes.

Upon opening it, the box was lined with a layer of black velvet, on which lay three pills the size of longan fruits, completely black and emitting a pungent medicinal smell.

"The Hundred Poisons Pill?"

Chen Mo leaned closer to smell it, then gently scraped the surface of the pill with his fingertip and licked it with the tip of his tongue.

Bitter, astringent, followed by a numbness on the tip of the tongue, like being pricked by a needle.

The Hundred Poisons Classic records this kind of elixir, which was made by the Hundred Poisons Master using a variety of poisons and special methods. After taking it, it can accumulate toxins in the body, and when fighting enemies, it can release poison mist and also enhance one's own resistance to poison.

However, ordinary people would surely die if they ate it, and even cultivators had to follow the steps and proceed gradually; swallowing it directly was tantamount to suicide.

He put the pills away.

The combination of poison techniques and Yellow Spring True Water may be effective, but this needs to be verified later.

The second item was a stack of talismans, wrapped in oiled paper, about twenty sheets in total, emitting a faint fishy smell.

Chen Mo examined it and determined that it was cinnabar mixed with blood instead of water.

These talismans are not of high grade, but they are numerous. Once activated, they can turn into poison arrows or poison mist, which can be used to interfere with the enemy's vision or deplete their defenses when fighting them, making them a good choice.

He rewrapped the talisman and stuffed it into his pocket.

Next was a fist-sized ceramic jar, its mouth sealed with wax, and a yellow paper label on the body with the words "Seven Steps to Despair" written on it.

Below the label is a line of smaller print: "Inhale and you'll be knocked unconscious; three steps to the throat, no cure within seven steps."

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. Such a potent poison was rare even in the unorthodox circles. Master Baidu was indeed a wolf in sheep's clothing.

The jar was very light; when I shook it, I found it contained a powdery substance.

He didn't open it; he simply put it into his storage space.

Then there were a few miscellaneous things.

A compass, about the size of a palm, with its copper surface covered in green rust; I don't know what it's for.

Three copper coins were strung together with a red string, but they were so worn that it was impossible to tell what they originally were.

A small yellow stone, about the size of a fist, with a rough surface, but one could sense a faint trace of spiritual energy when probing it with one's divine sense.

It's probably some kind of ore, but its quality is average.

There was also a small wooden box, about the size of a palm. When you opened it, you saw that it was lined with cotton, and on the cotton lay five needles, each as thin as a cow's hair, gleaming with a faint blue light.

"Rainstorm Needle?" Chen Mo carefully closed the wooden box.

This type of hidden weapon is widely circulated among independent cultivators. It can shoot out dozens of poison needles at once, making it impossible to defend against at close range.

The five needles in Master Baidu's hand were clearly not ordinary. The blue light emanating from the needles had an eerie translucency, as if venom was flowing inside them.

Chen Mo also put the wooden box away.

The last thing left in the storage bag was a small pile of Buddhist coins, about a thousand coins, and some loose silver dollars and banknotes.

Chen Mo poured out the money and counted it; it was over 1,300 in legal tender and only a little over 500 in silver dollars.

"That old poisoner isn't wealthy either; his assets don't match his cultivation level at the Condensation Realm."

Chen Mo muttered something to himself, then put the money into his purse, stuffing the silver dollars and banknotes inside.

After taking inventory of Master Baidu's belongings, he gathered the items on the table aside and took out Old Wu's items from his storage space.

The black sword was taken out first.

The old cloth was untied, and the jet-black blade was once again exposed to the light of the electric lamp.

Chen Mo placed the sword horizontally on the table, examined it several times, and then picked it up and weighed it in his hand.

It was much heavier than an ordinary iron sword, and felt quite heavy in the hand.

"What exactly is it made of?"

He flicked the spine of the sword with his fingernail, producing a very faint hum that lingered in the room for four or five breaths before dissipating.

Chen Mo held the sword upright with the tip pointing upwards, closed his eyes, and focused his divine sense into a single line, slowly penetrating the hilt of the sword.

The inside of the sword was a state of chaos.

When one's divine sense probes into it, it is as if entering an endless darkness, with emptiness in all directions, without direction or boundaries.

That sharp edge is hidden deep within this void.

Chen Mo's divine sense attempted to approach that sharp edge.

He had only gotten a fraction closer when an invisible pressure surged forth, repelling his divine sense.

He suddenly opened his eyes, his temples throbbing, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

..interesting."

Chen Mo placed the sword horizontally on his lap, pondered for a moment, then extended his left index finger and gently scratched the tip of his right fingernail, creating a small cut from which a bead of bright red blood seeped out.

He let the blood drip more, then pressed his bleeding fingertips onto the black spine of the sword.

The blood flowed slowly along the blade, but instead of seeping into the sword, it slid down the sides of the spine and dripped onto the ground, spreading out a small patch of dark red.

The sword remained jet black, untouched by anything, as clean as if nothing had ever happened.

Chen Mo frowned, wiped the blood from his fingertips, took out a clean cloth from his storage space, and wiped the remaining blood off the sword.

The method of blood oath is the most primitive and is effective for the vast majority of magical artifacts.

Even if it doesn't work, at least there will be some reaction.

But the sword didn't react at all.

"They won't even eat blood."

Chen Mo said something in a low voice and tossed the cloth aside.

He gripped both ends of the sword with both hands, and his internal energy slowly circulated, seeping into the sword's interior along its spine.

The moment the magic power entered the sword, one could feel the devouring force deep within the sword, but it vanished without a trace, like a mud ox sinking into the sea.

Chen Mo did not stop, but continued to increase the output of his magic power.

One-tenth, two-tenths, three-tenths —

The magic power flowed continuously into the sword, but the sword still looked lifeless.

He channeled at least 40% of his total mana, enough to unleash a full-force attack from a high-grade magic weapon.

But this sword was like a bottomless pit, swallowing up so much magic power without even letting out a burp.

Chen Mo put down his sword and placed it back on the table, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Damn, this is such a rip-off. No wonder Old Wu hasn't been able to sell it after three years."

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark sword on the table, and cursed under his breath.

"If I really spent 100,000 magic coins to buy this thing, my Dao heart would probably be shattered."

Wrap the sword again in the old cloth and put it back into the storage space.

Since we don't need it now, we'll have to save it for later.

Aside from this sword, Old Wu's other belongings are fairly common.

There were four pieces of remains left behind after the death of a cultivator or aberrant being. Two were long and two were short. The long ones were about the length of chopsticks, and the short ones were only the thickness of a finger.

These kinds of things are sold quite often in the ghost market, but they're usually of average quality and not worth much money.

Next are three small ceramic bottles.

The earthenware bottle is only the size of two thumbs, with its mouth sealed with wax and a small piece of red paper pasted on its body.

Corpse oil, grave soil, coffin water.

These are all materials commonly used by the household deity lineage. Since Old Wu worships the Altar Goddess, it's not surprising that he has these things.

Chen Mo twirled the three ceramic bottles in his hand and briefly scanned them with his divine sense.

The quantities are all small: about two ounces of corpse oil, half a pound of soil from the grave, and even less water from the coffin, just a shallow layer.

I'll keep it for myself; it might come in handy when I'm refining the Myriad Soul Banner later.

Finally, there are talismans.

A stack of yellow paper talismans, about ten or so, tied together with a red string.

Most of them are low-level talismans, such as talismans for warding off evil spirits, talismans for protecting the home, and talismans for calming the mind.

It's of low quality and has little spiritual energy; it's probably something he drew himself.

There were three talismans in good condition, made with real cinnabar, with spiritual energy flowing on them.

Although it's not exactly high-end stuff, it's much better than the ones mentioned before.

Chen Mo himself doesn't use talismans much, but it can't hurt to keep them in case he needs them someday.

After carefully collecting the various odds and ends, he finally took out the jade scroll that the Ghost Banner Taoist had handed over.

It contains the method for making the Ten Thousand Souls Ribbon.

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