Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

The old man with the masked face in front of him snorted and turned his head. When he looked at Chen Mo, it was like a knife scraping across his face, as if he wanted to cut off a piece of flesh.

"Even if you take this knife, it's useless. Why are you meddling in this?"

His voice was clearly angry, hoarse and low, and the whole place fell silent.

"If the old gentleman takes a liking to it, he may bid as much as he wishes. It is the rule of the auction house that the highest bidder wins."

Chen Mo met the other person's gaze without flinching or avoiding it. "As for whether it will be useful or not, that's my own business."

The old man's Adam's apple bobbed, and the dagger in his eyes seemed to be tempered with fire. "Do you know the origin of this knife? It was a burial item of a silent Zen Taoist priest from the Tang Dynasty. Its yin energy is so heavy that an ordinary person who touches it will have nightmares for three years."

"Are you going to buy this to use as a coffin lid or a fire poker?"

These words were so harsh that several people nearby couldn't help but laugh.

Chen Mo's expression remained unchanged as he looked at him indifferently: "What I would do with it is none of your concern, sir. If you wish to raise the price further, I'm happy to oblige."

The old man was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting this kid to be so tough.

"Good, good." He said "good" twice in a row, his mask rising and falling slightly with his breathing, and his voice was already tinged with coldness. "Seven thousand five."

"Eight thousand."

Chen Mo followed up in a steady voice, saying that one's reputation matters, and since things had already been said to this extent, how could he let it go?

The old man stared at him, his cloudy eyes swirling with indescribable emotions—anger and surprise.

He didn't raise the price; instead, he raised his hand and slowly removed the mask from his face.

Beneath the mask was a long, thin face with high cheekbones and sallow skin.

The most striking feature is a deep scar between his eyebrows, as if it had been slashed by a sharp weapon, splitting his brow in two.

Do you recognize me?

Chen Mo shook his head. Was this old man very famous?

Someone nearby gasped in shock.

"Money...Master Qian?"

The speaker was a man wearing a black and white mask sitting diagonally in front, "The knife-selling man, the knife-selling man, Qian the Cripple, weren't you dead?"

"You're the fucking dead." The old man glanced at him sideways, and the masked man immediately shrank back and fell silent.

The place immediately erupted in chaos.

"A knife-selling peddler? One of those lowlifes?"

"Shh, keep your voice down. This lineage is incredibly sinister. I've heard that the knives they sell on credit always end up costing them their lives."

"Wasn't Qian the Cripple missing for several years? How come he's showing up today?"

Whispers rose like a tide, only to recede the moment they met the old man's gaze.

On the stage, Sun Tong closed his folding fan, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and said, "So it's Master Qian who has graced us with his presence. This junior was blind to your greatness..."

"Enough nonsense." The old man waved his hand, looking back at Chen Mo with eyes as cold as snow water in the dead of winter. "Eight thousand five hundred, are you still going to bet?"

Chen Mo didn't show any fear on his face: "Yes."

"Okay." The old man nodded. "Ten thousand."

"Eleven thousand."

At this point, Chen Mo was also in a bit of a dilemma.

If the other party raises the price again, he will have to give up, otherwise he will have to use those high-quality Crimson Sun Blood Crystals to offset the price, which is not worthwhile.

The people around remained silent, their gazes shifting between Chen Mo and Old Man Qian.

Some shook their heads, some pursed their lips, and some whispered among themselves.

"This newbie is really courting death."

"You dare to steal what Old Man Qian has his eye on?"

"Don't know where they came from?"

Hearing those words, Chen Mo's lips twitched involuntarily. If he had known earlier that this old man was so difficult to deal with, he would have directly asked for 10,000 and ripped him off in one go.

Old Man Qian froze for a moment, then slowly turned around.

Those eyes were so bright they didn't seem like those of a living person.

He stared, stared, and suddenly grinned.

That smile reminded Chen Mo of the dead people he had seen in the mortuary when he was a child—the kind of smile that came out of nowhere after the original owner had been dead for three days and the corners of their mouths had dried out.

"Brother, you're going to challenge me, aren't you?"

"Fair trade, what's with all this 'fairness'? Does the auction house belong to the wealthy?"

Chen Mo was getting angry after being threatened repeatedly.

The main issue was that the old man's strength didn't seem very strong, and he didn't pose much of a threat to him.

Old Man Qian didn't say anything, he just stared at him.

One breath, two breaths, three breaths, and then slowly raised his hand, but hesitated and put it down halfway up.

Sun Tong on stage looked somewhat surprised, his gaze sweeping over their direction: "Twelve thousand, any higher bids?"

No one answered.

"Twelve thousand per time."

"Twelve thousand twice."

"Twelve or twelve thousand three times—sold!"

Chen Mo finally breathed a sigh of relief, and a thin layer of sweat had already seeped onto his back.

All eyes were on him, some with surprise, some with pity, and most with amusement at the spectacle.

"Who is this guy? He dares to steal Qian the Cripple's things?"

"You must be from out of town, you don't know anything about itinerant knife sellers."

"Knowing won't help. Look at him, does he seem like the type to back down?"

Whispers buzzed like flies, but Chen Mo ignored them, his eyes fixed on Sun Tong on the stage.

Sun Tong, being a worldly man, quickly concealed his surprise and smiled, nodding at him: "Brother, let's settle things backstage when it's over."

In front, Old Man Qian was still sitting in his original seat, his sallow face looking ashen in the dim light.

The scar on his forehead furrowed into a frown, distorting his brow.

. . . . . .

Time passed slowly, and only after the nineteenth item was photographed did Sun Tong stop and take a sip of tea.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the next item up for auction tonight is the twentieth lot."

The waiter brought over a wooden box carved with intricate patterns, barely bigger than the palm of his hand.

Sun Tong took the wooden box, but instead of opening it immediately, he smiled at the audience.

"This item is somewhat special; it's an incomplete manual of a cultivation technique."

As he spoke, he opened the wooden box and took out a thin booklet.

The booklet was bound in thread, and the cover was tattered and had a worn, dark yellow hue.

A large area of ​​the edge was charred, as if it had been snatched from a fire.

"The Soul-Capturing Secret Technique." Sun Tong held up the booklet. "It's an ancient demonic sect's technique. Although the content is incomplete, it contains a complete secret technique for attacking the soul."

Someone in the audience scoffed, "They're selling this kind of thing? Who knows if it's real or fake?"

Sun Tong wasn't annoyed, but simply smiled and said, "What this gentleman says is true; secret techniques are indeed difficult to verify."

His gaze swept across the audience: "But as you all know, our auction house has been open for decades and we never sell fakes. This item was sent by a regular customer. The boss personally inspected it and confirmed that the technique is correct."

A few moments of silence fell over the audience.

Someone in the front row spoke up: "Boss Sun, secret techniques are different from other things. Just listening to you talk about them is useless. Can you turn a couple of pages and let us see if it's true or not?"

Upon hearing this, many people nodded in agreement.

"Yes, look at the first two pages."

"If it's really good stuff, the price is negotiable."

Sun Tong's smile remained unchanged, but her eyes glanced towards the backstage area.

He turned his gaze away as the backstage curtain twitched slightly, then smiled and nodded: "Alright, anyone interested in the cultivation technique can come up and take a look."