Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

"Are you looking for death?"

The words "Old Man Qian" were practically squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a chilling aura.

As soon as he finished speaking, he flipped his right hand, and a copper coin was already between two fingers.

The copper coin was rusty, but a faint red light flashed from the square hole facing Chen Mo.

Chen Mo's eyelids twitched, and his right hand immediately gripped the paper figure in his arms, the Taiyin Qi flowing at his fingertips, ready to be activated at any moment.

Just then, a hand landed on Qian the Cripple's shoulder.

"Mr. Qian, calm down."

It's Sun Tong.

He had already stepped down from the stage at some point, a smile plastered on his face. The hand he placed on Qian the Cripple's shoulder exerted a slight pressure, making it impossible for Qian the Cripple to break free.

"Today is Sun's turf, could you please give me some face?"

Qian the Cripple turned his head and glared at him, his eyes filled with malice.

Sun Tong remained unfazed, still smiling at him.

The two remained locked in a standoff for a full three breaths.

Finally, the cripple snorted coldly, put the copper coin away from his fingers, and sat back down.

But those eyes remained fixed on Chen Mo, like a lurking venomous snake.

"I'll give Boss Sun face." He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger. "But this kid, I'd better not run into him outside."

Chen Mo raised an eyebrow and sat back down in his seat.

Since someone stepped in to help, he was happy to temporarily back down, as there were too many people around and it wouldn't be convenient to actually fight.

Seeing that the situation had stabilized, Sun Tong's smile deepened. He released his hand from Qian the Cripple's shoulder, turned to face the crowd below the stage, and clapped his hands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please just take this little incident as a bit of fun."

"We haven't gotten to our main business today yet. Are we still going to film this 'Soul-Capturing Secret Technique'?"

Immediately, someone in the audience echoed, "Clap! Why aren't we clapping? Didn't Master Qian say the technique is real?"

"Yes, yes, hurry up and take the picture!"

Sun Tong smiled and nodded, then stepped back onto the auction stage and raised the wooden box high.

"Very well, I won't waste any more words. The incomplete 'Soul-Capturing Secret Technique,' nine pages in total, starting bid—five thousand silver dollars!"

A tattered book costs five thousand silver dollars. It's not exactly expensive, but it's definitely not cheap either.

The key issue is that nobody knows what that soul-binding technique is like. If we buy it and find out it's useless, then the five thousand dollars will be wasted.

"Five thousand," someone bid from the corner.

"Five thousand five." Another voice chimed in.

"Six thousand."

"Six thousand five."

Prices are rising slowly.

Qian the Cripple sat there without moving, his eyes fixed on the booklet.

Although he had only read two pages, it was enough for him to be certain that the contents of the booklet were genuine.

Moreover, it is a rare method of spiritual cultivation.

This kind of technique is rarely seen in ordinary markets.

Although the lineage of itinerant knife sellers has its own traditions, the path of the soul has always been mysterious. If he can obtain this booklet, it might allow him to make further progress in this field.

The problem is, he didn't have that much money on him.

I came here today just to try my luck, but I didn't expect to find two really nice items.

But then Chen Mo appeared, not only snatching the knife but also making the booklet a hot commodity.

"Eight thousand."

"Eight thousand five."

"Nine thousand."

"Ten thousand!"

The one who made the bid was the old lady holding the black cat.

Ten thousand silver dollars.

Another commotion erupted from the audience.

Qian the Cripple's face was ashen, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the armrest.

"Twelve thousand."

He gritted his teeth and shouted out a price.

This is also the sum of all his possessions.

If he still can't get it at this price, then he's truly powerless.

The old lady next to him turned her head and glanced at him, her lips twitching slightly, before slowly raising her cane.

"Twenty thousand."

Two words, light and airy, yet like two slaps to Qian the Cripple's face.

The auction house was completely silent.

Spending 20,000 silver dollars on a single incomplete book is beyond most people's expectations.

The old lady sat there without changing her expression, while the black cat yawned in her arms and lazily licked its paws.

Sun Tong looked around: "Twenty thousand, any other bids?"

No one answered.

"Twenty thousand per time."

"Twenty thousand twice."

"Twenty-three times—sold!"

Sun Tong made the final decision with a smile and told the shop assistant to take the wooden box away.

"Madam, please follow me to the backstage area for the handover."

The old lady stood up, and the black cat in her arms straightened up as well. She didn't rush to leave, but instead turned to look at the cripple, Qian.

"Young man of the Qian family, I'll accept this booklet. Do you have any objections?"

Qian the Cripple's face turned ashen, and after a long while, he managed to squeeze out two words through gritted teeth: "I dare not."

"That's good." The old lady nodded and slowly walked backstage.

The black cat perched on her shoulder, turned around, and meowed at the cripple, its voice high-pitched and thin, as if it were laughing.

Qian the Cripple sat there, completely frozen in place.

Chen Mo flicked his left index finger, and a wisp of almost imperceptible Yin energy shot out, concealing itself on the lame leg of Old Man Qian in front of him.

"Mr. Qian, didn't you just say you wanted to photograph that booklet?"

He stood up, clapped his hands, and said with genuine confusion, "Oh, I forgot, you just bid 12,000, but the old lady bid 20,000."

"Twelve thousand versus twenty thousand, that's a difference of eight thousand."

Chen Mo paused, then suddenly laughed. "Mr. Qian, if you had a couple of cents in your pocket, go ahead and keep shouting. What kind of big shot are you if you don't have money?"

Qian the Cripple's face turned from ashen to liver-colored.

Several guests who were about to leave watched this scene with great interest, trying hard to suppress their laughter.

This unfamiliar face seems to have really gotten into a fight with the knife peddler.

Seeing that Qian the Cripple's eyes were red and menacing, and that the copper coin between his fingers was flashing red, about to shoot out.

Chen Mo suddenly took a step back and waved at him with a smile.

"Brother Qian, I'm going backstage to get my knife. I'll definitely let you have a look next time I have the chance."

After he finished speaking, he turned and walked backstage, the gaze from behind feeling like a thorn in his back.

Chen Mo didn't turn around, his right hand still clutching the paper figure in his arms, until he lifted the curtain of the backstage area, at which point the chilling gaze dissipated.

The backstage area was a small cubicle with an eight-immortal table, two armchairs, and a yellowed scroll hanging on the wall with the words "Honest and trustworthy to all, young and old."

Several people who had already bid on items were already making their transactions.

Sun Tong was holding a teacup when he saw Chen Mo come in. He put down the teacup, stood up, and smiled broadly, "Brother, you've arrived. Please have a seat."

The old lady who was holding the black cat is no longer here; she must have finished the transaction and left.

Chen Mo didn't sit down, but simply cupped his hands in a gesture of respect to Sun Tong: "Boss Sun, that knife."

"Understood, understood." Sun Tong took out a folded contract from his pocket. "Young man, the usual rules, just put your fingerprint on it. Twelve thousand silver dollars, cash on delivery."

Sun Tong spread the contract paper on the table and pushed a calligraphy brush over.

Chen Mo glanced down at the contract, which contained standard phrases such as "Selling a Tang-style sword, payment upon delivery, no returns or exchanges." In the corner was a vermilion seal, vaguely bearing the character "Sun."