Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

Chapter 261 Shopping at the Ghost Market

"The Banner of Ten Thousand Souls gathers ten thousand souls to form a vessel, and captures a thousand spirits to form a weapon."

"On the day the banner was completed, all living beings within a hundred miles retreated, and even ghosts and gods were terrified—"

The opening lines were quite boastful, but Chen Mo didn't care; these kinds of things always had to start with some intimidating words.

Keep reading.

"6

...The method of forging prioritizes the material. The pole is made of lightning-struck wood that is over a hundred years old, and it is three feet and three inches long and as thick as a thumb.

"Lightning-struck wood, tempered by heavenly lightning, possesses a strong yang energy, making it most effective at suppressing evil spirits. Using it to make a pole can prevent the evil ghosts within the banner from turning against you."

Chen Mo nodded slightly. Although lightning-struck wood is hard to find, it is not unavailable on the market.

"The banner is woven from black silk, and is three feet six inches long and two feet four inches wide."

"Then, mix cinnabar with corpse oil and draw seventy-two demonic patterns on the banner—"

"If black silkworm silk is unavailable, black satin that is over a hundred years old can be used as a substitute, but it must be buried on the grave for seven days to absorb sufficient yin energy before it can be used..."

When Chen Mo saw the words "corpse oil," he frowned but didn't say anything.

Although corpse oil is considered unlucky, at least it is extracted from corpses, not from living people, so it can be considered somewhat acceptable.

Compared to the practice of skinning people alive, this is considered quite civilized.

"After the banner surface and the banner pole are combined into one piece, seventy-two demon patterns need to be painted on the banner..."

'

Chen Mo read through the entire recipe, closed his eyes, and went over it in his mind several times to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Only then did he take out a piece of paper and write down all the necessary materials.

The materials are divided into three categories: rods, surfaces, and drawings.

A piece of wood struck by lightning, over a hundred years old, three feet three inches long and as thick as a thumb.

Lightning-struck wood is not hard to find on the market; it's sold frequently in ghost markets, but most of it is scraps used for making plaques or pendants. Whole pieces longer than three feet are rare.

Even if they were available, the prices would be outrageously high.

Chen Mo added a parenthesis after the lightning-struck wood, wrote the character "贵" (expensive), and then drew a circle around it.

Black silk, three feet six inches long and two feet four inches wide.

This thing is only sold in the underworld.

One ounce of realgar and cinnabar from Chenzhou, one bowl of water in the coffin, and three drops of blood from the heart.

Cinnabar and water accumulated in the coffin should both be available at the ghost market, as for heart's blood...

He looked down at his chest.

Three drops of heart's blood, and it takes at least two months to recover after extraction.

However, the Ten Thousand Souls Banner cannot be forged overnight. It will take two months to complete the drawing of the seventy-two ghost patterns. It is just right to raise the spirits while drawing the banner.

Neither will interfere with the other.

Chen Mo checked off these three items and added a small note after "heart's blood": "Nourish the blood for three days before starting to draw."

In addition, there were some miscellaneous items.

A virgin with long hair.

This needs to be collected at the barbershop; it's just a matter of a few silver dollars. Liu Qi can handle it.

Water without roots.

Collected in an auspicious year, month, and hour, this is the most troublesome, but it's not urgent. The lightning-struck wood hasn't arrived yet, but the rootless water can wait.

He looked through the list from beginning to end, and after confirming that nothing was missing, he stuffed the yellow straw paper into his pocket, opened the window, and jumped out.

The full red moon shines through the window, peering at the city through the thin clouds.

As midnight approached, the streets were deserted.

The signs on the arcade buildings on both sides swayed gently in the night breeze.

Occasionally, a stray cat would dart across the street, its footsteps barely touching the ground.

Chen Mo walked through several streets and turned into the dead-end alley he had entered before.

He stopped in front of the wall, took out a Tianxi Tongbao coin, stuck it on the wall, and drew a line along the crack from top to bottom.

"open."

The Ghost Market is located inside. Although it's called a market, it's more like a long, crooked street with all sorts of stalls on both sides.

The stall owners were all different; some looked like normal people, while others no longer looked like people at all.

Some stall owners weren't even human; they were skeletons dressed in funeral shrouds, without any facial features or shadows.

Fortunately, there seemed to be some kind of unspoken rule in the ghost market. Those vendors who weren't human only dared to look at him with their eyes, but no one did anything underhanded.

Chen Mo ignored the greedy gazes, his eyes sweeping over the stalls as he slowly walked along the street.

The best place to find it is where the water has accumulated inside the coffin.

After walking a short distance, I saw an old woman squatting by the roadside with three black pottery jars in front of her.

The mouth of the jar was sealed with yellow paper, on which were written the words "water in the coffin".

Chen Mo squatted down in front of the stall, not looking at the old woman's face, but staring at the pottery jar.

How much?

The old woman gave a hoarse laugh and handed over a ladle the size of a teacup. "Fifty coins a ladle, scoop it yourself."

Chen Mo took out a small porcelain bottle from his pocket, peeled off the yellow paper covering the mouth of the jar, and used his divine sense to scan inside.

A chill emanated from the mouth of the jar, a kind of coldness reminiscent of the depths of a grave.

The water quality is relatively clean, with ample yin energy, and there is nothing mixed in.

He scooped out a bottle, about three ladles' worth, placed 150 coins on the stall, and got up to leave.

A low chuckle came from behind, "A living person buying coffin water...you're so anxious..."

'

Chen Mo ignored him and continued walking forward.

Water without roots is much harder to find.

He wandered around the ghost market twice, asked at five or six stalls, but was not satisfied with any of them.

Some of them have too little yin energy, while others are simply made by diluting ordinary rainwater.

Just as I was about to walk a little further, I suddenly heard two stall owners talking in hushed tones next to me.

The two figures speaking were one fat and one thin.

The fat one still looked human, while the thin one had half of his head sunken in, as if he had been hit by something, but he spoke fluently.

"Have you heard? Old Wu has changed."

The skinny man lowered his voice: "Which Old Wu?"

"Who else could it be? Old Wu who sells flying swords, the one who worships the altar goddess."

The fat man sighed, "I heard he's dead, and was taken care of by the shady characters in the mortal world."

Chen Mo paused slightly, but didn't stop; he just perked up his ears.

"I knew it! Worshipping household spirits for too long is bound to cause trouble sooner or later. That person has been worshipping the altar spirit for over ten years, right? I guess it backfired."

"More than that, it's probably related to the fact that he comes to this place often." The fat man shook his head. "He should come here less often in the future. If you stay in the underworld for too long, you never know when you might turn into that kind of thing."

"Neither of us are alive anymore, so what are we afraid of?"

The fat man was silent for a few moments. "What are you afraid of? I'm afraid of turning into something that's even worse than a ghost."

"Look at Old Zhou at the end of the street. Last year he was still a normal person, but this year he's grown seven or eight arms under his neck. And look at that old woman selling talismans at the east end. Last month she could still talk, but this month she can only drool."

'

The skinny man spat out, "Alright, alright, stop talking. It's bad luck if someone hears us."

The two gradually fell silent.

Chen Mo heard every word of those words, his face remaining calm, but a slight thought stirred within him.

Old Wu indeed died at the hands of the Zhenyi Division.

But none of this concerns him anymore.

Just as I was about to walk forward, I suddenly heard someone shout from the side.

"Sir, please wait a moment."

Chen Mo stopped and turned his head to look.

A low table was set up in the shadows on the street, and a person was sitting behind the table.

He was wearing a dark red long gown, his hair was slicked back and shiny, and he had a smile on his face.

But that smile lacked any warmth and looked somewhat fake.

"Sir, I've noticed you've been searching for quite a while. Is there anything you need?"

The man smiled and said, "Our shop may be small, but we have a wide variety of goods. Just tell us what you want."

Chen Mo glanced at the table in front of him.

There are several items on it.

A dark-colored stone.

A small ceramic bottle, its mouth sealed with wax.

A roll of yellowed parchment, it's hard to tell that the items on it are anything rare.

"Just browsing," Chen Mo waved his hand dismissively.

The man chuckled again, then suddenly leaned forward, "I see this gentleman possesses refined magical power; he must be a cultivator."

"I have some good things here that aren't displayed on this table. I don't usually show them to just anyone."

Chen Mo looked at him without saying a word.

The man took out a small brocade box from his sleeve and opened it a crack.

A faint blue light shone through the crack, casting a half-light and half-shadow on his face.

"A piece of Xuan Yin Stone Marrow, about the size of a fist, can be added during weapon forging and will raise the grade of the magic weapon by at least half a level."

"The stronger the yin energy of the magical artifact, the better its effect." He closed the brocade box, looking at Chen Mo with a smile. "So? Tempted?"

Chen Mo was indeed somewhat tempted.

If a Mysterious Yin Stone Marrow could be added to the Myriad Souls Banner, the concentration of Yin energy within the banner would increase significantly, effectively saving half a year of nurturing time.

But his expression remained completely unchanged; he simply asked casually, "What's the price?"

The man held up three fingers: "Three thousand coins."

Buying a fist-sized Xuan Yin Stone for three thousand magic coins isn't expensive; in fact, it could be considered cheap. In the Ghost Market, a Xuan Yin Stone of this quality would start at least at five thousand.

Chen Mo didn't rush to pay; instead, he smiled and said, "Such a low price, there must be another reason behind it, right?"

The man's smile deepened, and a dark red light flashed deep within his pupils.

"As for the money... I don't lack it. If this gentleman is willing, he can exchange it for something else."

"What?"

"Heart."

"Judging from your vital energy and the heart of a cultivator, you are a hundred times stronger than an ordinary person."

"If you're willing, I'll give you three Xuan Yin Stones in exchange for your heart."

After he finished speaking, he stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, as if he was savoring something.

Chen Mo suddenly laughed. "Do you think I'm a three-year-old?"

"If you rip out my heart, will I still be alive to use your Mystic Yin Stone?"

The man quickly waved his hand: "No, no, no, you misunderstand. I only need half of the flesh and blood in the left ventricle. I don't need to take it all out."

"After the procedure, I can seal the wound for you, and it will heal in three to five months."

"You are a cultivator, and your recovery ability is much stronger than that of ordinary people. You will not die. I swear on my Dao heart that I will never harm your life."

As he spoke, the smile on his lips never changed, but the light in his eyes had shifted, revealing a raw, undisguised hunger.

"No change."

Chen Mo gave him a cold look, a flash of fierceness in his eyes.

Want to eat your own flesh and blood?

If it weren't for the ghost market, he would have really wanted to kill this guy.

The man's smile froze for a moment, then returned to its usual warmth: "Don't rush off, the price is negotiable."

"Half won't do, a quarter will do, and if all else fails, a few drops of your heart's blood will do, and I'll still give you the Xuan Yin Stone, even if it's a loss for me..."

"roll."

Chen Mo had already turned and left.

The man's unwilling voice came from behind, gradually becoming sharper, "You'll come back... and then it won't be this price."

Chen Mo did not turn around, and continued walking along the long street at a moderate pace.

On the stalls beside me, oil lamps flickered in the dim red moonlight.

The stall owners cast curious glances at me, but also a hint of hidden longing.

Every living person who enters is seen as a walking piece of fresh meat in their eyes.

He wandered around the ghost market a few more times and bought a few useful odds and ends.

A small bottle of realgar and cinnabar from Chenzhou, of acceptable quality, cost eighty coins.

The hair tie made of three strands of a maiden's long hair was a bit expensive, costing twenty dollars each, but he was too lazy to look for a second shop, so he just bought it directly.

As we turned a corner on the long street, the area ahead suddenly became more lively.

A dozen or so people gathered around a stall—a sight rarely seen in the ghost market.

Living people usually don't want to gather in places where yin spirits gather.

Chen Mo walked closer, his gaze passing over the shoulder of the person in front of him and landing on the stall.

It is a piece of wood struck by lightning.

It was over three feet long, jet black, and covered with fine cracks on its surface. The cracks had a faint yellowish-brown tinge, like the marks left by heavenly fire.

What's most striking are the tiny lines on the wood surface, which are actually winding and meandering thunder patterns.

It is in excellent condition.

Chen Mo's heart stirred slightly, but he remained expressionless. He stepped aside and carefully examined the lightning-struck wood from the side.

At first glance, it does indeed appear to be over a hundred years old, with dense and even crack patterns, no breaks, no insect damage, and a fine piece of material right in the middle.

Such items are indeed rare in the ghost market.

As he was looking around, a voice suddenly rang out beside him.

"This piece of wood is quite good."

Chen Mo turned his head to the side.

Standing next to him were three people, all wearing dark blue Taoist robes with white trim on the collar and cuffs, and a five-petaled lotus flower embroidered on their chests.

The lotus flowers are embroidered with exquisite detail, with layers upon layers of petals that are still clearly visible even in the dim light.

Zhengyi Sect.

Chen Mo's gaze swept over the Taoist robe, but he didn't look at it for long.

The Zhengyi Sect is one of the top sects in the mortal world, with disciples all over the world. It's not too strange to encounter them in the ghost market.

However, they usually disdain coming to such places. The Zhengyi sect is self-sufficient in its ritual implements and talismans, so there is no need for them to come to the pile of yin objects to hunt for goods.

The one in the middle, who was a bit older, looked to be in his early thirties. He had a sharp jawline, a calm gaze, and was examining the lightning-struck wood while holding a whisk in his hand.

Behind him stood two young men, one with a round face and the other with small eyes. Both carried cloth bags and had peach wood swords at their waists, the standard attire for wandering the martial arts world.

"Senior brother, this piece of wood struck by lightning is old enough."

The round-faced one lowered his voice, his tone tinged with excitement, "Master's peach wood sword has a crack." "Take another look," the man called senior brother interrupted him, shifting his gaze from the lightning-struck wood to Chen Mo beside him.

The stall owner was a thin old man, sitting cross-legged on the ground, wearing a drab gray cotton-padded jacket.

His face was covered in wrinkles, with dark spots embedded in the wrinkles, making it impossible to tell whether they were age spots or rigor mortis.

Chen Mo stopped in front of the stall, not in a hurry to speak, and first glanced at the wooden sign in front of the old man.

The sign had a few lines of text crookedly engraved on it: "Lightning-struck wood, over a hundred years old, with lightning patterns all over the body, a whole piece of wood without damage."

"I don't sell my Dharma items for money, I only exchange them for treasures. If it's something mundane, don't even ask for it."

They don't sell the Dharma for money, they only exchange it for things.

Chen Mo's heart sank. He still had some Dharma money, but he didn't have many treasures that he could exchange for.