Starting with the flesh-based stimulant

Zhou He rubbed his chin with his hand, looking towards the back mountain. It was only about ten o'clock in the morning, and the thin mist had just dissipated.

The small temple on the back mountain is hidden in the green and earthy yellow landscape, almost invisible.

Besides Li Ping, himself, and Tian Laogunzi, there was no one else standing in the room.

Zhou He didn't know what use the green hat was, let alone how to turn a living person into an object.

He asked Li Ping:

"Mr. Li, how do you usually tell if something like this is finished?"

Li Ping shook his head:

"Making objects is for experts; how would I know anything about it?"

Zhou He nodded, a clear smile playing on his lips. Since that was the case, it seemed he had no choice but to ask someone who knew about this.

The matter at Tianjiazhuang is not so simple; it's unlikely that I can resolve it on my own.

Let alone solving it, it would be difficult to even understand it.

He instructed Li Ping to keep an eye on everyone in the area, then walked back to the courtyard, closed the doors and locked the windows, lit a lamp, burned incense, and sat cross-legged on the ground.

As the aroma of oil lamp oil mingled with the fragrance of other oil lamps, Zhou He stretched out his hand, crossed his ten fingers, moved them around, took a deep breath, and left only his right hand in front of him.

Interlock your index and middle fingers to form a hand seal. Then, feeling the energy hidden within your body stirring, the remaining three fingers seem to suddenly no longer belong to you, switching back and forth at a dazzling speed.

Zhou He performed the six hand gestures more than ten times.

Changing six hand seals in a single breath was still quite difficult, even for Zhou He, who was calm and whose fingers were not slow.

He wasn't in a hurry or annoyed; he just stared at the flame of the oil lamp, trying again to clear his mind and focus all his attention on his fingers.

The fingers pinched faster and faster until they were almost blurry.

"Pop"

The lamp flames flickered, making the room even brighter.

The internal sustenance unconsciously diminishes.

Zhou He chuckled, feeling a sense of relief. He looked up and scanned the room, his gaze revealing a newfound spirit.

Before he could savor the moment, he took out the wooden piece that Yongqiang had given him from his bag and pressed his thumb on the circle drawn with black ink.

It was originally an ordinary ink circle; if it weren't for its perfectly round shape, it would have looked more like a child's play.

As Zhou He pressed down, there seemed to be some sound, though he couldn't quite make it out. The next moment, the wooden piece hummed softly.

Zhou He brought the wooden piece to his lips, thought for a moment, and slowly opened his mouth:

"Peddler Mr. Chen, from Mubu Mountain, Tianjiazhuangzi, has some good seasonal items. Would you like to buy them?"

After saying that, he placed the wooden piece on his lap and stared at the lamp flame.

The peddler didn't keep him waiting long. As the wooden piece vibrated and hummed gently again, Zhou He placed his finger on the ink ring, and the peddler's familiar, friendly yet slightly slick voice reached his ears:

"Brother Zhou, I am interested in the items from Mubu Mountain, but I'm afraid you can't make that decision?"

Zhou He picked up the wooden piece and chuckled softly:

"Mr. Chen, this is a treasure of nature; it should be reserved for the virtuous."

After saying that, he put away the wooden pieces, extinguished the lamp wick and incense stick, patted the hem of his clothes, and walked out of the courtyard.

Inside the arena, Li Ping's eyes darted around, scanning the crowd. Whenever he saw someone make a slight movement, he would walk over with his pot, slightly lift the lid to let in some of the smell, and the person would calm down again.

Upon seeing Zhou He return, he rushed forward somewhat anxiously:

"Brother Zhou, shall we run?"

Zhou He waved his hand, smiling easily:

"No rush, no rush, just wait a moment."

Li Ping was a little anxious. He wanted to say something, but his lips twitched. After a long while, he swallowed his words back and returned to the crowd with his pot.

Zhou He found a relatively clean, elevated spot, squatted down on the ground, propped himself up with one hand, and stared blankly into space.

As the sun slowly climbed to its zenith, its heat scorching the ground, Li Ping ran even faster, seemingly unable to contain the panic among the crowd.

Zhou He had already faintly heard several metallic clanging sounds, and some barely suppressed screams.

"Brother Zhou, this won't do. The pot's potting mix is ​​almost completely drained of its energy!"

Li Ping, sweat dripping down his face, ran over and stretched out his sleeve to wipe it off, when the pot clattered against his forehead.

Zhou He stood up, waved his hand, and gestured for Li Ping to come to his side:

"Mr. Li, please take a rest."

Li Ping paused, then pointed to the scene in the arena where fear was beginning to spread again, and said urgently:

"Brother Zhou, this is already..."

Zhou He smiled gently, his eyes following Li Ping's finger as he looked into the arena.

Tian Laogunzi's figure had been swallowed up by the panicked crowd, and the crowd became increasingly agitated.

Even worse than before.

Many of them have already completely lost their senses and started rushing outwards.

This is the second stage of fear.

Zhou He wore a smile on his face, while silently making plans in his mind.

In a normal state of collective panic, the first stage is to band together and gather in groups, which is determined by human social nature.

However, in the second stage, panic begins to erode a person's mind, and they even begin to guard against everything that moves around them.

At first, you need to live in seclusion, go to your familiar environment, hide in some small spaces, and tremble with fear.

In the next stage, even familiar things begin to evoke fear.

Zhou He turned his head to look at Li Ping:

"Mr. Li, is there any way to get all these people gathered here?"

Li Ping glanced at Zhou He with a strange expression, gritted his teeth, stomped his foot, removed the wooden frame behind him, pulled out a dark, dull kitchen knife, and then found a log bound with several wires.

With a "thud," the log fell to the ground, kicking up dust.

It turned out to be a chopping block for cutting vegetables.

"Brother Zhou, the first hurdle in our cooking profession is called 'starting out,' and there's a technique called..."

At this point, Li Ping slowly picked up the kitchen knife, spun it around, and tossed it out. The knife landed on the chopping block with a "clang".

"It is called—I am the Blade of Death."

As soon as he finished speaking, Li Ping placed the stool in front of him, rolled up his sleeves, silently dismantled the frame, stood in front of the stool, and slowly began to chant some incantations. The place was noisy, and Zhou He didn't quite hear him.

After reciting the incantation, Li Ping bent down, let out a shout, and pushed the mound into the ground.

The ground opened its mouth wide, slowly swallowing the mound, section by section, slowly but firmly.

When only the surface of the slab was left on the ground, Li Ping took the cleaver back and slowly drew a circle around the slab on the ground.

On the ground of the arena, an invisible knife slowly slashed, drawing a not-so-perfect circle. The knife mark was deep, etched into the ground, perfectly embracing the arena.

There was no invisible barrier, but those who ran out in terror circled around the edge.

It's like not being able to find a way out.

It's more like being meat on a chopping board, unable to go anywhere.