A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

Chen Che leaned against the window, eyes closed, silently reciting the seven solutions to the mechanism lock. Master Jueyuan said that although the Mohist mechanism locks were ever-changing, they all stemmed from the same principle, ultimately consisting of only seven basic structures. As long as these seven were thoroughly memorized, one could simply identify the specific type on the spot and solve it accordingly.

The difficulty lies not in the solution, but in the internal strength required.

The mechanical locks require extremely high levels of internal energy circulation; strength, rhythm, and breathing must be perfectly synchronized. Master Jueyuan said that his current internal energy is only at the "entry level," and to truly unlock those mechanical locks that have not been moved for thousands of years, he still needs to hone his skills slowly in actual combat.

The train arrived at Shanghai North Station at 3 p.m.

Chen Che carried his suitcase out of the station and took a deep breath. The air in Shanghai was completely different from that in Songshan—there was no bitter fragrance of pine needles, no earthy smell, only the mixture of coal smoke, gasoline, and the unique perfume scent of the Bund.

He hailed a rickshaw and gave them the address in the French Concession.

The car weaved through the crowded streets, trams clanging past on either side, newsboys waving newspapers and shouting headlines at the intersection, and a woman in a cheongsam walking arm in arm with a man out of a café. Everything was exactly the same as before he left, as if he had never left at all.

But Chen Che knew things were different now.

The car stopped in front of the apartment. He paid the fare, picked up his suitcase, and walked up the steps. Before he could knock, the door opened from the inside.

Chen San stood at the door, his eyes wide open.

"Young Master!" He looked Chen Che up and down. "You're finally back! It's been almost two months, and not even a telegram. I was almost ready to go to Henan to look for you!"

"What's the rush?" Chen Che stepped inside, placing his suitcase on the floor. "Is there anything wrong in Shanghai?"

"Nothing serious, just a minor matter..." Chen San suddenly lowered his voice, "Mr. Xu has come to see you three times."

Chen Che paused for a moment.

"What did he say?"

"The first two times he asked if you were back. The third time—" Chen San pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, "He told me to give this to you, saying you should go see it as soon as you get back."

Chen Che took the note and unfolded it. There was only one line of text on it, the handwriting messy, as if it had been hastily written:

"There's some commotion at the City God Temple. Come quickly."

Chen Che stared at the line of text for a few seconds, then folded the note and put it in his pocket.

"Chen San, pour me a glass of water."

"Young Master, you've just returned, why don't you rest for a bit?"

"No more rest." Chen Che walked into the bedroom and took out the items from the suitcase one by one—several martial arts manuals with annotations, twelve Marrow Cleansing Pills, the dark green jade pendant, and a small packet of Shaolin Temple injury medicine that Master Jueyuan had given him as an extra gift.

He hung the jade pendant around his neck and placed it close to his chest. He put the Marrow Cleansing Pill and the annotations on the cultivation technique into the drawer of his desk, and stuffed the medicine for injuries into his pocket.

He changed into clean clothes, drank a cup of hot water, and looked at himself in the mirror.

The person in the mirror was still the same face, but the look in their eyes was different from two months ago. He couldn't quite put his finger on it—it just seemed deeper, more profound, like a well that had finally filled with water.

"Young Master," Chen San peeked in from the doorway, "Are you really going now?"

"Go now."

"Then I'll accompany you—"

"No need." Chen Che picked up the hat from the table and put it on. "You stay home and keep watch. If I don't come back before dark, you know who to look for."

Chen San's expression changed slightly, but he didn't say anything more, only nodded heavily.

Chen Che pushed open the door and went out. Shanghai in November was already a bit chilly, with a damp, cool wind blowing in from the Huangpu River. He buttoned up his coat and walked towards the City God Temple.

After walking a few steps, he subconsciously adjusted his breathing—inhaling, the air entered from the top of his head, traveled down his spine to his dantian; exhaling, the air rose from his dantian and exited through his mouth. This was something he did thousands of times every day, and it had become muscle memory.

The warm energy in his dantian settled steadily, neither too fast nor too slow, like a beating heart.

He touched the jade pendant on his chest and quickened his pace.

He's here at the City God Temple.

Upon arriving at the City God Temple, Chen Che was already familiar with the intricate network of streets and alleys, and soon found Mr. Xu.

Mr. Xu brewed a Ming Dynasty Longjing tea left over from the previous dynasty. He held a tile from an unknown dynasty in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other, intently observing the patterns embedded in the tile.

"Mr. Xu, I'm back from Shaolin," Chen Che said, pulling up a stool and sitting down opposite Mr. Xu.

"Oh? Have you learned the Yi Jin Jing?" Mr. Xu asked.

"Well, I've only learned the basics, but Master Jueyuan said it's enough," Chen Che replied.

"Well, I've only learned the basics, but Master Jueyuan said it's enough," Chen Che replied.

"Sketch?" Mr. Xu put down the magnifying glass, picked up his teacup and took a sip, glancing at the roof tiles from above. "That old monk Jueyuan has never taken on many disciples in his life. The one who is willing to teach you will definitely not just teach you the basics."

Chen Che did not respond.

Mr. Xu put down his teacup, took something from the wooden box beside him, and placed it on the table. It was a palm-sized piece of copper, covered with a layer of dark green rust, but one could vaguely see fine patterns engraved on it—not ordinary decorative patterns, but the geometric patterns unique to mechanical locks, with lines interlocking and overlapping, like a net solidified on the copper surface.

"Take a look at this." Mr. Xu pushed the copper sheet over.

Chen Che took it and flipped it over. The back was rougher and more rusted, but in the lower right corner, a small recessed hole could be vaguely seen—not a defect caused by rust, but a regular hexagonal groove carved out by hand.

"This is……"

"It was unearthed from under the City God Temple," Mr. Xu said in a low voice. "Three days ago, the Public Works Department was repairing the sewers. The workers were digging the foundation behind the temple, and when they were about three feet deep, their shovels hit this thing. Nobody paid any attention to it at the time and just left it by the pile of dirt. My people saw it and brought it back to me."

Chen Che's fingers caressed the copper plate, his fingertips slowly tracing the patterns. Two months ago, looking at these things was like reading a book written in a foreign language. Now it was different—the crisscrossing lines automatically disassembled and reassembled in his mind, like a tangled mess being untangled one by one.

"No need to rush things. Only one thread can pass through a pinhole at a time," Mr. Xu said with a smile. "All the mysteries begin with that hole in Zhabei."

Chen Che nodded thoughtfully: "You're right. Then I'll prepare properly. When the auspicious day arrives, I'll go down through the hole in Zhabei to take a look."