Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

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The ship slowly sailed out of Xiaguan Wharf, its stern churning up murky water and leaving a long trail on the river.

Master Long stood in the cockpit, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding a cigarette.

The red glow of the cigarette butt flickered on and off behind the glass window.

The boat was not fast, but it was very stable, its hull rising and falling gently with the river waves, like being in a cradle.

Li Jinrong stood on the deck at the stern of the ship, looking at the unfamiliar scenery on both sides of the Yangtze River with a touch of curiosity in his eyes.

Tie Kun arranged two guards at the bow and two at the stern of the ship, who took turns on duty and never let go of their guns.

Uncle Fu and the rest of the men stood guard beside the cargo box, and they added two more ropes.

Chen Mo didn't stay in the cabin. Instead, he moved a chair to the bow deck, facing forward, watching the river part and then rejoin at the bow.

After leaving Jiangning, the river widens.

The houses on both sides of the river gradually thinned out, and were replaced by large areas of farmland and reed marshes.

Occasionally, you can see a few fishermen's huts set up on the shore, with fishing nets drying in front of the doors, and a few dilapidated wooden boats lying on the mudflats.

Further away are rolling hills, hazy and indistinct in the thin mist.

In the afternoon, a breeze picked up on the river, blowing in gusts from the northwest, carrying a cool feeling.

The boat started to rock, not much, but you could feel it.

Li Jinrong didn't look well; he was seasick.

I started feeling unwell as soon as I left Jiangning. Now I'm lying on a chair in the cabin with my eyes closed, and my face looks a little pale.

"Mr. Li, would you like something to eat?"

Tie Kun walked in, carrying an oil paper package containing the sesame seed cakes he had brought from the inn that morning.

The fat man waved his hand, not even wanting to say a word.

Master Long walked in carrying a teacup, glanced at Li Jinrong, took out a small porcelain bottle from his pocket, poured out a black pill, and said, "Hold it in your mouth, don't swallow it."

"What is it?"

Li Jinrong took the pill, looked at it curiously for a few moments, and then put it in his mouth. The pill dissolved on his tongue, and a cool minty taste rushed to his head.

"To prevent seasickness."

Master Long put the porcelain bottle back into his arms, turned around and left the cabin.

.....

The wind grew stronger, and the boat rocked even more violently.

As evening approached, a mist began to rise on the river surface, initially just a thin layer that drifted along the water.

But before long, the fog grew thicker and thicker, completely enveloping the little steamer.

The ship's lights shone into the fog, revealing only a few feet ahead; beyond that, all was a vast expanse of white nothingness.

Master Long emerged from the cockpit, stood at the bow, squinted at the mist for a moment, and his face darkened.

"Old Zhao! Old Sun! Bring those two pigs and four sheep out of the hold!"

The sailors' responses came from the lower deck, followed by the sounds of livestock.

Tie Kun poked his head out of the cabin. "Master Long, what are you doing?"

"Sacrifice to the river."

Without turning his head, Lord Long said, "The River God has appeared; we must offer him sacrifices."

Chen Mo stood on the bow deck, watching the sailors pull out two fat pigs and four goats from the hold.

The pig, with its four hooves tied, lay on the deck, grunting and squealing.

The sheep was standing, but its four legs were trembling, and its eyes were wide open, as if it had smelled something ominous.

An older sailor squatted at the bow of the ship, lit a stack of yellow paper, and the ashes swirled in the mist before being scattered by the river wind.

Master Long took a rusty pig-slaughtering knife from the cockpit and walked to the first pig.

He held the pig's head down with his left hand, held a knife in his right hand, and muttered incantations.

The sound was not loud, mostly drowned out by the river wind and the sound of the waves; Chen Mo could only vaguely hear a few words.

"River God...peace...passing by."

As the knife fell, the pig let out a short, agonizing scream, and blood gushed from its neck, splattering onto the deck and flowing down the ship's side into the river.

Master Long's hand was very steady; he killed the pig with a single blow. The pig struggled a few times and then stopped moving.

Several sailors worked together to lift the dead pig to the side of the ship and push it into the river.

Another pig and four sheep were also killed one after another. Blood flowed down the side of the boat into the river, turning the river water next to the boat dark red.

Grandpa Long stood at the bow of the boat, still holding the pig-slaughtering knife in his hand, squinting at the mist.

After a while, the fog not only did not dissipate, but became even thicker.

A pungent stench began to fill the air, not the smell of pig's blood or sheep's blood, but another nauseating, fishy odor.

It's like a corpse that has been rotting for a long time being pulled up from the bottom of the water.

Master Long's expression changed. He tucked the butcher knife behind his waist and turned to walk towards the lower deck.

"Everyone back in the cabin! Quickly!" he yelled urgently at the sailors on deck. "Don't stay up there!"

The sailors were already in a panic. Upon hearing Lord Long's shout, they scrambled and crawled into the hold.

A young sailor was running a little slower and was caught on the ankle by a grayish-white hand that reached out from the mist.

"Lord Dragon, save me!"

He screamed and was dragged to the ground, sliding towards the side of the ship.

Chen Mo reacted quickly, grabbing his arm and drawing his black sword from his waist, slashing at the grayish-white hand.

The blade severed the wrist, striking the deck with a dull thud.

The severed hand that landed on the deck instantly turned into black water and spread out.

He dragged the young sailor into the hold and kicked the hatch shut.

The cabin was filled with the unpleasant smell of diesel fuel mixed with animal manure.

Chen Mo squatted down to examine the sailor's ankle. There were five bluish-black finger marks, but they were only shallow superficial wounds with a few drops of blood. There was no ulceration or blackening.

"It's just a superficial wound, nothing serious."

The sailor thanked him tremblingly and shrank into a corner.

Master Long leaned against the cabin wall, his face ashen. The butcher knife was still tucked behind his waist, and the blood remaining on the tip of the knife had turned black.

"Lord Long..." someone asked in a low voice, "Why is God Jiang still not satisfied? He's already given us pigs and sheep."

Master Long didn't say anything, but took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"That thing outside shouldn't be Jiang Shen."

His voice was very low.

The cabin was so quiet that you could hear the river water lapping against the deck.

"What is it?"

Chen Mo placed the sword across his lap; the feel of that last strike was off.

When the blade cut into that grayish-white wrist, it didn't feel like it was cutting through flesh; it felt more like it was slicing into a lump of mud.

After finishing his cigarette and crushing the butt out on the sole of his shoe, Master Long slowly said, "I've been running this river for forty years. I've seen water monkeys, drowning ghosts, and even the River Goddess appearing."

"The river god needs offerings; pigs and sheep are enough, maybe a few sheets of paper money for peace of mind. But today..." He paused, "...did you smell that stench?"

Everyone could smell it.

The stench, now mixed with thick fog, seeped in through the cracks in the hatch.

Underwater, it looked like something huge was swimming along the bottom of the boat.

Chen Mo didn't dare to release his divine sense, for fear of attracting the other party's attention.

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"This is a river corpse." Master Long's voice was hoarse. "People who died in the river and were never pulled out, their resentment lingered, and over time they turned into this kind of thing."

"It doesn't want pigs or sheep."

Chen Mo stared at him: "What do you want?"

Lord Long did not answer, his gaze fell on the dozen or so sailors in the cabin, and then looked away.

But that look said it all.

Suddenly a loud crash came from outside the cabin, as if something heavy had hit the deck, and the entire ship shook violently.

Then came the sound of chains being dragged, echoing from the bow to the stern and then back again.

Everyone held their breath.

The young sailor hugged his bandaged ankle, huddled in the corner, barely daring to breathe.

Master Long's hand was already on the butcher knife.

A rhythmic knocking sound came from outside the hatch.

Thump, thump, thump...

It sounded like someone was knocking on the door with their knuckles.

With each knock, the air inside the cabin grew colder, and many people's breath turned into white mist.

Everyone shrank back, crowding together, including Chen Mo.

Only Master Long stood still, reaching behind his waist and slowly drawing out the pig-slaughtering knife.

The black blood remaining on the blade suddenly began to writhe, eventually gathering at the tip of the blade and dripping onto the ground.

Without turning around, Master Long said in a very low voice, "When I chant the incantation, none of you should make a sound."

The others quickly nodded in agreement.

He raised the butcher knife, pointed the tip at the cabin door, and began to mutter incantations.

It wasn't Mandarin, nor was it a dialect spoken along the river; the syllables were short and abrupt, like some kind of contract.

The knocking on the hatch suddenly stopped.

The silence lasted only a few seconds.

A sharp sound came from the crack in the door, like a baby crying or a woman laughing; the two sounds intertwined, sending chills down one's spine.

Lord Long's brows were furrowed, and veins bulged on his forehead, but he never stopped chanting incantations.

Chen Mo noticed that the fishy smell in the cabin was slowly fading.

The mist seeping in through the crack in the door was not as thick as before, and its color changed from grayish-white to translucent, like the water vapor commonly seen on the river surface in the early morning.

The sound rang out a few more times, this time sounding farther away, seemingly heading towards the stern of the ship.

Then came the sounds of splashing water and heavy objects hitting the water, one after another, gradually fading into the distance.

No one dared to move inside the cabin.

The Dragon Lord's incantation finally stopped.

He was panting heavily, using the butcher knife to support his body on the ground, sweat dripping down his chin.

Just as the fat man was about to speak, Master Long quickly put a finger to his lips, signaling him to remain silent.

One minute, two minutes, five minutes.

It was completely quiet outside the cabin.

Master Long slowly straightened up, pushed the cabin door open a crack, and glanced outside.

The fog was still there, but it had thinned considerably, revealing wet bloodstains on the deck and the outline of the mast at the bow.

In the distance, the hazy mountain shadows on the river reflected the sunset, and the water was so calm that it didn't seem like anything had just happened.

Master Long pushed the cabin door open completely and stepped out first.

Chen Mo followed behind him, carrying a horizontal sword. The air on the deck was damp and cold, and the fishy smell had almost dissipated, leaving only the smell of river water and diesel fuel.

The young sailor with the injured ankle also limped onto the deck. Most of the finger marks on his ankle had faded, leaving only a few faint bruises, and there was hardly any swelling.

"Thanks, Mr. Chen."

Chen Mo waved his hand, his gaze remaining fixed on the river.

The fog came quickly and went quickly.

The glow of the sunset spilled onto the water, making it shimmer and revealing nothing unusual.

Grandpa Long stood at the bow of the boat, squinting as he watched for a long time, his expression never relaxing.

"It's gone?"

Chen Mo walked to his side and asked in a low voice.

Master Long didn't answer immediately. He silently took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag.

The smoke billowed from his nose and was dispersed by the river breeze.

"I've left, but I don't know if I'll ever come back."

He turned his head and glanced at the black horizontal sword in Chen Mo's hand, his gaze lingering on the blade for a moment.

"If you cut it, that thing will probably haunt you."

"Getting attached to me?" Chen Mo frowned. "Does that mean you'll keep bothering me?"

With a cigarette dangling from his lips and his hands in his pockets, Long Ye stared at the river for a long while, lost in thought. "That thing holds a grudge. Unless you never cross this river again, it will definitely come after you."

He spoke very softly, but several people around him heard him.

Tie Kun walked over and glanced at the horizontal sword in Chen Mo's hand, then looked at Master Long.

What does "entangled" mean? Is there any way to untangle it?

Grandpa Long held the cigarette between his fingers, flicked off the ash, and the grayish-white ash was scattered by the river breeze.

"Solution? If that thing could reason, it wouldn't be called Jiang Shi (River Corpse)."

"In all my years of sailing, I've only heard of two instances where someone got involved with a river-crossing corpse."

"The first time was thirty years ago. A boat captain who ran a smuggling business had a master on board who helped him out of a predicament, but the boat still capsized and he was never found."

"And the second time?" Chen Mo asked.

Master Long glanced at him. "The second time was with my father."

"My father didn't carry a knife; he just saved the sailors on the ship, but he still remembered it."

"For the next three years, my father didn't dare to go on the ship again and instead worked as a porter at the dock."

"Then one night three years later, he washed his feet in a small pond by the river and never came back."

After saying that, Master Long flicked his cigarette butt into the river. The sparks drew an arc in the air before falling into the water.

"Let's not rush today, let's find a place to rest for the night and then talk." After saying that, he walked into the cockpit.

Chen Mo sheathed his sword back at his waist and scanned the surroundings with his divine sense, but found nothing unusual.

If it dares to come, kill it!

.....

It was getting dark.

Master Long slowed the boat down, and the boat swayed slightly as it began to drift towards the south bank.

The boat turned into a side river, where the banks became narrower and narrower, and the river water changed from muddy yellow to a dark, almost blackish green.

Some dilapidated buildings began to appear on the shore.

A faded red cloth strip hangs on a dead old locust tree.

The red ribbon swayed in the evening breeze, like a withered hand beckoning.

"Where is this place?"

Chen Mo walked into the cockpit, where Master Long was holding the rudder with one hand.

"The old dock." Without looking up, Old Man Long said, "Boats that used to run this route used to stop here. But then a dam was built upstream, the water level dropped, and the dock was abandoned."

"Now there are only a few households left, a general store, and an incense shop."

Master Long pulled the throttle, and the boat slowed down even further, almost floating on the water as it moved forward.

"In the past, the brothers who sailed the river would pray here before crossing this section of the river, asking for a safe journey."