Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

After pondering for a few minutes, Chen Mo lifted his leg and walked towards the Central Court.

He remembered that there seemed to be a ream of high-quality yin paper left in Chen Dachuan's room.

Chen Dachuan's room was next door, the door always closed. He rarely went in since his disappearance.

The original owner was afraid of being reminded of past emotions by the sight of the room, while Chen Mo vaguely felt that there was still some kind of yin energy left in the room, which was not good for his body that was infiltrated by yin energy.

As soon as I opened the door, a smell of old wood and dried herbs wafted out.

The room was simply furnished with a bed, a cabinet, a table, and a chair—all old items, covered only by a thin layer of dust.

His goal was clear; he walked straight to the black lacquered wooden cabinet against the wall.

The cabinet was locked, but the key was hanging on an inconspicuous hook by the bedside.

Remove the key, insert it into the lock, and turn it gently.

"Click".

The cabinet door opened with a click.

It has several floors inside.

On the top layer were several neatly folded old clothes, and below them were several ancient books wrapped in oil paper. These were not the notes on "The Art of Paper Making in the Underworld," but rather miscellaneous books about local anecdotes and folk customs.

At the very bottom is a rectangular object completely wrapped in a thick, dark blue cloth.

Chen Mo carefully took the package out and placed it on the wooden table in the room.

Unbutton and lift the thick cloth.

What's showing inside isn't ordinary colored paper or plain paper.

The paper is a deep gray, almost black, cool to the touch, and has an exceptionally soft and delicate texture. The surface of the paper has a faint, matte sheen.

This is the Yin Paper that Chen Dachuan occasionally mentions, but strictly forbids the original body from touching.

It is said to be made from the dark bamboo fiber of a specific year, mixed with grave grass and other special materials, and prepared using ancient secret methods.

Not only are they expensive, but they are also not available in ordinary markets.

A stack of twenty or so sheets of yin paper, neatly folded, exuded a profound and mysterious aura.

Chen Mo's fingers gently stroked the paper, the cool touch seeming to penetrate his skin.

The Yin energy that had been dormant within his body seemed to be subtly stirred by the aura of the Yin paper, causing it to stir slightly.

"This is it."

Chen Mo wrapped up the yin paper, locked the wooden cabinet again, and returned to his room.

What he wanted to create was not young boys and girls, but something far more aggressive—paper puppets and weapons.

At the end of the third layer of the manuscript, the paper puppet spirit communication chapter, there are a few vague descriptions that mention that if special materials are used as a base, supplemented by secret runes and essence blood as a guide, simple weapon puppets with sharpness and the ability to ward off evil can be made.

However, this is a taboo side branch and is extremely dangerous.

If one is not careful, the refiner may suffer mental and physical damage, or even be devoured by the yin energy, or attract the attention of unpredictable evil spirits.

Chen Mo did not start immediately. Instead, he first took out a small sandalwood box from the drawer of the control panel, which contained several auxiliary tools.

A spirit pen made from the hair of a hanged person.

A small dish of dark red cinnabar.

There is also a small bundle of dark gold-colored silk thread, used to bind the key joints and enhance the stability and spiritual energy conduction of the paper puppet.

With all the materials ready, Chen Mo took a deep breath, closed the door tightly, and left only one window open for ventilation.

Carefully spread the stack of negatives on the table and take out one sheet.

He first selected the toughest, darkest bamboo strips, carefully shaved them with a knife, baked them, and built a skeleton about two feet high, resembling a simplified human figure.

The framework does not need to be exquisite and beautiful, but only needs to be strong and flexible at key nodes.

Then he picked up the negative paper and began to cut and wrap it according to the shape of the skeleton, making sure that every part of the pasting was tight. The negative paper fit the bamboo skeleton perfectly, forming a dark gray cardboard shell with only a rough human shape.

The next step is the most crucial one—drawing the spirit runes.

Chen Mo dissolved a little blood cinnabar in water, dipped his spirit-patterned brush in it, recalled the twisted, tadpole-like runes on the notebook, and slowly began to write.

The moment the pen tip touched the cool, damp paper, he felt a slight jolt.

The traces of cinnabar were not conspicuous on the dark gray paper. Guided by his thoughts, he outlined strange patterns on the chest, abdomen, limb joints, and hands of the paper puppet.

Drawing spirit patterns consumes a great deal of energy, not only his mental strength, but he also felt the Yin energy near his heart meridian being subtly stirred, as if it wanted to flow out from the tip of the brush.

Chen Mo forced himself to calm down and control the pace.

After finishing drawing the spirit pattern, fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

Finally, gold thread is carefully wrapped around the joints of the paper puppet and tied with special knots.

With each wrap, he guided a wisp of his own energy into the thread, allowing it to slowly connect with the spiritual patterns on the paper puppet's skeleton.

The entire process lasted for nearly two hours.

By the time the last gold thread was wrapped, the sun was already high in the sky outside the window.

Chen Mo breathed a sigh of relief and swayed slightly before he steadied himself by holding onto the edge of the table.

Making these paper puppets of weapons consumed not only materials, but also his vital energy and spirit, and even indirectly triggered the Yin energy within his body.

His face was as pale as paper, and he sat in a chair and rested for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea before he recovered.

Now there's only one last step: the finishing touch and the blood pact.

However, the eye-dotting ceremony must be performed at midnight, as the yang energy is too strong during the day, which is not conducive to the procedure.

After putting the unfinished paper puppet of swords and weapons into the wooden box, Chen Mo felt waves of hunger rising in his stomach.

He forced himself to scrape out the last bit of old rice from the bottom of the rice jar, mixed it with most of the brown rice and a few dried vegetable leaves, and cooked a thin porridge on a small clay stove in the corner.

The warm food finally dispelled some of the chill and brought back a little of my weak energy.

After clearing away the dishes, Chen Mo changed into the most inconspicuous gray cloth short jacket and messed up his hair slightly to make himself look more like an ordinary teenager struggling to make a living.

He checked the few copper coins hidden in his sleeve, then touched the empty cloth bag in his pocket. After locking all the doors and windows, he left through the back door of the central courtyard.

The afternoon sunlight was a bit too bright.

Funeral Street remains somber during the day, but once you step outside the street, you enter the bustling, ordinary life of Linhe County.

Chen Mo lowered his head and merged into the crowd on the street.

The streets are paved with bluestone slabs, but they have been in disrepair for many years, with many potholes and puddles, and they have a dark greenish sheen.

On both sides are shops of varying heights, with gray tiles and wooden eaves, and signs and banners swaying in the breeze.

Grain and oil shops, grocery stores, teahouses... most of the storefronts are old and the paint is peeling.

The air was filled with the smells of food, sweat, animal manure, coal smoke, and a faint musty smell that seemed to come from nowhere.

A long-gown accountant hurried past carrying a cloth bag, a shop assistant in a short jacket called out at the shop entrance, an old woman with bound feet shuffled along carrying a vegetable basket, and a ragged beggar huddled in a corner with empty eyes.

In the distance came the shouts of rickshaw pullers and the jingling of their bells, mixed with the long, drawn-out cries of vendors selling wontons, repairing umbrellas, sharpening scissors and knives.

The walls were covered with yellowed notices, some from the government apprehending bandits, some from shops opening for business, and many more were layers of old posters and fragments of unknown slogans.

The utility pole stood crookedly, covered with a tangled mess of wires, like a giant spider web.