Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

Chen Mo followed Hu San to a small building that was only two stories high.

The building's doors were tightly shut, with a few pale blue lanterns hanging from the eaves. Above the door hung a black plaque with gold lettering, bearing three large, bold characters:

Listening to the Rain Pavilion.

Hu San stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door a few times in a rhythmic manner.

A moment later, the heavy wooden door silently opened a crack inward.

"Young man, please."

Hu San stepped aside, gesturing for him to go in, but he himself stood outside the door, showing no intention of following him in.

Chen Mo was on high alert, but he didn't show it on his face. He simply took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The wooden door closed silently behind him, completely isolating him from the outside world.

The building is softly lit, and there is no hall or corridor as expected; instead, you are greeted by an extremely spacious and elegant room.

The air was filled with a smell similar to that of old books.

The light comes from several elegantly designed floor lamps, casting a warm glow that illuminates the rosewood furniture in the room with a subtle sheen.

In the innermost part, by the window, there was a large chessboard.

A man, around fifty years old, dressed in a dark gray long robe, sat behind the table, intently studying the unfinished game on the chessboard.

Hearing footsteps, the person did not look up, but simply pointed to the empty space opposite the chessboard.

"sit."

Chen Mo did as instructed and sat down on the soft futon.

Upon closer inspection, the man exudes a composed and dignified air, seemingly blending seamlessly with the ancient atmosphere of the room.

But his muscles tensed up unconsciously, and the thin paper figure on his chest seemed to pulsate with a barely perceptible tremor.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the other person finally looked away from the chessboard, his gaze lingering on Chen Mo's face for a moment before seemingly casually sweeping over his chest.

"The water in Tianjin is murky; I haven't seen such a pure and clean scent of spirit paper in many years," the owner of the shop suddenly said, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather. "The Chen family's craftsmanship hasn't been completely lost; that's good."

Chen Mo's heart trembled violently, and a layer of fine sweat instantly seeped out on his back.

As expected, the other party noticed!

Moreover, he revealed his origins and background in a single sentence.

The poster seemed oblivious to his nervousness, and picked up the purple clay teapot that was warming on the red clay stove, poured two cups of tea, and pushed one cup in front of Chen Mo.

The tea soup is golden yellow, with a refreshing aroma.

"Don't be surprised. If I couldn't even see through this little thing, I wouldn't need to have my Listening Rain Pavilion standing in the underworld of Tianjin."

He took a sip of tea and said slowly, "Your grandfather, Chen Xuanli, used to make paper soldiers. He could block the path of a hundred ghosts by himself, and send half a city's worth of paper money to the dead... Friends in the martial arts world gave him a nickname - White Paper Yama."

A blank sheet of paper!

Chen Mo searched through the original owner's memories and found that his grandfather seemed to have died before he was born.

"There are four major families in Tianjin who practice ghost-related activities: the Willow Wood Carving Souls, the Fan Family Corpse Driving, the Ding Family Ghost Raising, and another family that communicates with the spirit world through paper and makes paper soldiers, known as the Chen Family of Paper Men."

The original poster's voice carried a sense of wistful vicissitude, "The paper figures of your Chen family, at a higher level, are not merely inanimate objects to be burned as burial goods. Those with sufficient spirituality can act as eyes and ears, while the ferocious ones can capture living souls. The mysteries within are beyond the comprehension of outsiders."

"Then...why..." Chen Mo suddenly remembered the few shriveled rice weevils in his rice jar and couldn't help but ask.

Why did it decline?

The host picked up the conversation, his gaze returning to the chessboard, and picked up a black piece with his fingertips.

"A tall tree catches the wind, and a skilled craftsman is envied. The underworld profession is about walking on the edge of the yin and yang worlds, dealing with ghosts and spirits, earning money from the living, and blocking the path of the dead."

"Your grandfather was too ruthless and too straightforward. In helping people settle disputes, he offended a lot of people and got the eye of many."

The black piece in his hand landed gently on a certain spot on the chessboard, making a crisp "tap" sound.

"I'm not entirely sure why either," the original poster sighed.

"Does the poster mean that there's more to the story than meets the eye in the Chen family's decline? Even Tingyu Tower... can't explain it clearly?"

Chen Mo raised his eyes and keenly caught the reservation in the other person's words, which seemed more like evasion than ignorance.

The Listening Rain Pavilion Master gently stroked the teacup in his hand, his gaze falling on the rising steam. "The waters of the underworld are never clear. Knowing some things is not necessarily a blessing, especially for you now."

He raised his eyes, and a faint sigh seemed to flicker in the depths of his calm eyes. "After your grandfather died, the major business of paper-making in Tianjin gradually fell into the hands of two other families."

"The family surnamed Jin is skilled at making gold paper and silver foil, and precious artifacts that bring wealth and prosperity. They follow the official-merchant route."

"The other one... operates in a more secretive way, known as the Shadow Craftsmen, specializing in shady, clandestine work. As for your father..."

The original poster shook their head and didn't continue.

Chen Mo didn't reply, but instead took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his turbulent emotions. "Senior, what is the deeper meaning behind telling this junior these old stories?"

"I'm telling you this for two reasons. First, out of consideration for my shallow friendship with your grandfather back then, I can't bear to see the descendants of my old friend living in such a muddled state."

"Secondly, it's to make you understand your situation. You carry the legacy of the Chen family, but in some people's eyes, you are still just a nobody."

"Once this identity gets out, the trouble you'll face won't just be those hyenas who were after your money tonight."

His heart sank.

Previously, I was only worried that possessing a treasure would bring trouble, but I never expected that the original owner's identity might also cause trouble.

"Thank you for your guidance and assistance, senior." Chen Mo cupped his hands in thanks, this time with a greater sincerity.

"It's good to understand your own situation." The voice of the Listening Rain Pavilion Master returned to its calm and indifferent tone, as if the rise and fall of the family mentioned earlier were nothing more than a few insignificant pieces on a chessboard.

"Hu San."

Hu San, who had been waiting at the door, pushed it open and bowed, saying, "Master."

"Take a portion of cicada molts and give it to this young friend," the host instructed, his tone as casual as if he were simply asking someone to serve him a cup of tea.

A hint of surprise flashed across Hu San's eyes, but he quickly concealed it, replied "Yes," turned around and walked to the ebony bookshelf on the side, opened an inconspicuous drawer, took out an item, placed it on a small jade plate, and presented it to Chen Mo.

In the jade plate was a grayish-white object, about half the size of a palm and as thin as a cicada's wing, with fine spiral patterns naturally present on its surface.

"Yin Cicada Molting, left behind by the third molting of the Ghost-Faced Cicada, which grows in extremely yin places. It contains pure yin energy and is mild in nature, making it easy to absorb."

The original poster's voice provided timely explanation.

"It may be of some help to your cultivation of the family's martial arts techniques, and it can also slightly nourish your depleted qi and blood, which is better than nothing."

Chen Mo looked at the contents of the jade plate, somewhat surprised, not expecting to gain this much.

"Senior, you are too kind. This junior..." He stood up and bowed respectfully, carefully putting away the Yin Cicada Shell and placing it close to his body.

"Go ahead." The host picked up his teacup, took a sip, and his gaze returned to the chessboard. "Once you leave the Ghost Market, it's up to your own skills and fortune."

"This junior understands." Chen Mo gave a final bow, then turned and went downstairs without lingering.

Hu San followed behind him, silently escorting him to the entrance of Tingyu Tower.

The heavy wooden door opened silently once again, and the unique mixed atmosphere and faint clamor of the ghost market rushed in.

"Young man, since the master gave you the cicada shell, he truly thinks highly of you."

Hu San suddenly lowered his voice and said quickly, "When absorbing the Yin Cicada's molt, you need to calm your mind and concentrate, don't be greedy for speed. Also... those two families the boss mentioned, the Jin family and the Shadow Craftsman, have deep roots in Tianjin, you... take care of yourself."

Chen Mo paused slightly and nodded: "Thank you for your guidance, Mr. Hu."