Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

The cart wheels rolled over the bumpy dirt road, attracting several discreet glances.

But upon seeing the outline of the straw mat covering his car, he quickly moved away.

With his face covered by a cloth strip, Chen Mo found a shady spot near a dead old locust tree and stopped. It was inconspicuous, yet he could observe most of the trading area from there.

He didn't act immediately, but leaned against the cart, like an ordinary peddler waiting for a buyer, calmly scanning his surroundings.

The ghost market has its own set of rules: no shouting or revealing prices; if you see something you like, you approach and ask the price in a low voice, and once the money and goods are exchanged, you immediately part ways.

He saw someone exchange a few Yuan Shikai silver dollars for a small bronze tripod covered in mud, and others were trading things wrapped in red cloth that faintly smelled fishy.

Besides the earthy smell, the air was also filled with a sweet, cloying odor.

Sure enough, there was also trade in Yin Earth here.

About half an hour later.

A man dressed in a black short jacket, with a thin, monkey-like build, quietly moved to the vicinity of Chen Mo's cart.

He first circled around at a distance, seemingly observing, before slowly approaching, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"Brother, what kind of cargo are you hauling? You can't come here empty-handed." The skinny man's voice was deep and had a local Tianjin accent.

"A little local produce, to exchange for some travel expenses," Chen Mo said calmly.

"Local produce?" The skinny monkey chuckled softly, subtly sniffing the air. "This doesn't smell like grains or vegetables. Let me see for myself?"

Chen Mo didn't move, but just glanced at him. "I know the rules, but are your eyes sharp enough? Don't just look and not be able to afford it, adding bad luck to your life."

Skinny Monkey was provoked, but he wasn't angry. Instead, he moved even closer. "Don't worry, brother. In this White Bone Tower business, you can't survive without a good eye and guts. As long as it's good soil, the price will satisfy you."

Chen Mo then turned slightly to the side, lifted a corner of the straw mat on the cart, revealing a rectangular package tightly sealed with oil paper and wax underneath.

He gently pressed his finger on a specific spot on the package, revealing a small amount of dark brown substance beneath the wax seal.

The skinny monkey's eyes immediately lit up, like a hyena smelling blood.

By the dim light, he carefully examined the color of the paste, then leaned closer and took a deep breath of its almost imperceptible sweet aroma, a satisfied expression appearing on his face.

"Yin soil? It's of very high quality... How many brothers do you have?"

"Not much, just enough to buy a boat ticket to the south, and some snacks for the journey," Chen Mo gave a vague figure.

"Great!" Skinny Monkey rubbed his hands together. "This portion... based on the current market price, I'll give you this amount."

He stretched out his sleeve and made a gesture underneath, which was the common bargaining method in the ghost market.

Chen Mo glanced at it, shook his head, and then stretched out his sleeve, holding up a slightly higher number.

The two exchanged several silent blows under their sleeves before finally reaching an agreement.

The skinny monkey pulled a small cloth bag from his pocket.

Chen Mo took it, and with a flick of his fingers, he found a stiff silver note and a few small yellow croakers inside, the weight and value of which were almost exactly what he had estimated.

He nodded, pulled the bundle of Yin soil from the bottom of the cart, and handed it to the skinny monkey.

The handover happened in an instant, and the two of them tacitly turned to the side to block any possible gazes.

"Brother, you're a straightforward guy." Skinny Monkey quickly stuffed the package into a tattered sack he had brought. "If you find any good stuff in the future, come back here. Just look for Night Owl."

Chen Mo remained noncommittal, carefully concealed the silver notes and gold bars on his person, picked up the cart, and turned to leave.

Skinny Monkey immediately shouldered the sack and disappeared into the shadows on the other side.

Transactions in the ghost market are clean and efficient, with no regard for origin or destination.

Chen Mo walked around outside and carefully hid the silver notes and gold bars in a specially made hidden pocket inside.

Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, he abandoned the cart and walked deeper into the ghost market from another direction.

At most, they sell antiques and shamanic items on the outskirts; the truly good stuff is never displayed in the open.

The further you go in, the narrower the terrain becomes.

On both sides were crooked and dilapidated brick walls, and in front of the brick walls were houses enclosed by heavy, dark tarpaulins.

Only a two-meter-wide passageway was left in the middle.

The light was almost gone, with only a small oil lamp, about the size of a mung bean, occasionally illuminating the blurry outlines of the items on the table.

The people here are also more silent, almost like stone carvings.

Chen Mo's gaze swept over several stalls, each selling all sorts of strange and unusual items.

Several copper coins with blackened edges and engraved with runes looked like coin pried out of the mouths of corpses in tombs.

Three withered, skeletal fingers, with long, black fingernails, were bound with red rope, exuding a chilling aura.

There were also vendors selling jars; the mouths of the rough pottery jars were sealed with mud, but faint scratching and sobbing sounds could be heard escaping from them. The stall owners closed their eyes to rest, ignoring the sounds.

Chen Mo continued walking until he reached a corner.

The stall owner here was a hunched old man, wrapped in a faded gray robe, huddled in the deepest shadow of the corner.

On the stall in front of him were several items.

A broken piece of animal bone, surrounded by grayish-white flocculent matter, and a few dark red crystals with blood-like veins flowing on their surface.

There were also several gray-black stones of varying sizes, with rough surfaces and unremarkable appearance.

"How much are the Crimson Sun Blood Crystals?" Chen Mo squatted down in front of the stall and asked in a low voice.

The rules of the ghost market state that you cannot touch anything without the stall owner's permission.

"Five hundred silver dollars per piece, no bargaining, or you can exchange it for yin-type materials."

So expensive!

All he had was enough to buy six dollars.

Chen Mo hesitated for a few seconds, then took out the fragments of the resentful bone and the wisps of the vengeful spirit from the cloth bag and placed them in front of the other party.

The old man raised his eyelids slightly, examined the materials, and used his withered fingers to fiddle with the few dark red crystals before pushing six towards him. "That's all I have."

He nodded and put away the six warm, moist crimson blood crystals.

The transaction was completed, and I should have left.

But the old man's chilling aura, so different from that of ordinary cultivators, might mean he knows the methods or information to prolong life.

At the very least, he could inquire about some basic knowledge of the cultivation world, which Chen Mo lacked.

He steadied himself, bowed again, and carefully chose his words: "Sir, your knowledge is vast, and I dare to ask your question. Since the Red Moon, the workings of heaven and earth seem to have changed. May I ask if there is still a smooth path now? Or... is there another way to follow?"

Chen Mo asked the question with extreme caution.

The old man, who had been keeping his head down, raised it almost imperceptibly by half a step.

For the first time, those grayish-white, cloudy eyes looked directly at Chen Mo in the cold light of the oil lamp.

The chilling atmosphere around them suddenly froze, and the pale blue lamp flame on the table abruptly contracted inward before slowly returning to normal.

The silence lasted much longer than before. The old man's chapped lips moved slightly. "The red moon hangs in the sky; the path to enlightenment is over."

He bluntly pointed out the taboo, his voice devoid of emotion. "The old methods of Qi Induction, Qi Condensation, and Foundation Building... were nothing but ladders in a dream, long since burned to ashes. Anyone who still tries to climb up the ashes now is either a madman or a dead man."

Chen Mo was shocked. Was his path of cultivation severed? Chen Dachuan had never told the original owner of this body these things.

The old man's gray eyes seemed unable to reflect any light or shadow as he continued, "Those who can still move can be roughly divided into several categories."

"One type is worshiping gods. These are not the original gods of the Heavenly Court, but those who, after the Red Moon, either by chance or by clinging to life, can still draw upon the power of incense and prayers."

"Trade with them, borrow their strength, and become their provisions. As for the price... it depends on God's mood and how strong your life is."

"Another type is body refinement. When the spiritual energy is cut off, the potential of the physical body and blood is instead unearthed by some people. They follow the path of tempering their muscles and bones and stimulating their bloodline."

"This road is relatively straight, but it's also the most arduous, and..." The old man hesitated for a moment, not finishing his sentence, as if he was wary of something.

"There is another type."

His gaze seemed to sweep over Chen Mo, yet also seemed to look towards the more distant void, "The Devourer of Fiends."

"I don't know much about this kind of thing either. I only know that the progress is extremely fast and the power is often unpredictable and ruthless. But nine times out of ten, they will not die a good death and will eventually become monsters that are neither human nor ghost."

"As for other more obscure and strange practices, such as corpse refining and ghost raising, possession and soul extension, and studying ancient broken arrays and strange artifacts, they are just minor struggles and have no real significance."

After the old man finished speaking, he lowered his gaze again, reverting to his clay-sculpted expression.

"Are there any ways or methods to extend or restore lifespan?"

Chen Mo couldn't help but ask another question...