Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

At the auction, Qian the Cripple hesitated for a few seconds before leaving through a side door.

The middle-aged man's strength and background were unknown, and he didn't want to make a move until he found out more about him.

Stepping out of the side door leads directly to the heart of the ghost market, and Qian the Cripple immediately attracted the attention of those watching him from the sidelines.

However, after their subtle glances swept over his face and limp, the group quickly abandoned their plans.

The news that the knife seller had appeared at the auction house was already known to most people.

"master."

Upon seeing him emerge, a capable-looking young man jumped down from a waiting carriage.

Qian the Cripple waved his hand, helped himself onto the cart, and said, "Let's go home first."

The carriage moved slowly, its wheels making a soft, crunching sound as they rolled over the bluestone slabs.

The lights of the ghost market were gradually left behind. The few people who were keeping watch stood still and watched the carriage disappear into the night. No one dared to move.

Inside the car, the cripple Qian had a gloomy face, and a cold glint would occasionally flash in his eyes.

Twenty years have passed.

For twenty years, no one has dared to mention this leg in front of him.

Back in the Northeast, the bearded bandit leader mentioned it once before he died.

They say a lame man and a lame horse are a match made in heaven.

Later, he dismembered the man's body piece by piece. By the time he reached the seventy-third bone, the man had lost his ability to speak...

But tonight, that unfamiliar face dared to humiliate him twice in front of everyone in the auction hall.

"It's been too long since we've seen blood. So long that these people have forgotten what happens when you offend a knife-selling peddler."

Qian the Cripple gently patted his right leg, his palm resting on his knee, as if he could still feel the piercing pain.

The carriage wound its way through the old city of Jinshi, finally stopping in front of an inconspicuous courtyard house.

He stepped down, holding onto the carriage shaft, and felt a chill run through him again as his right leg touched the ground.

"Master, are your legs bothering you?" the young man driving the carriage asked cautiously.

"Stop talking nonsense, unload the car and go call your senior brothers."

Qian the Cripple pushed open the courtyard gate, walked through the courtyard, and entered the main room.

There were no lights on in the room, but he didn't care. He just groped his way into the dark and sat down on the armchair.

At this time, the sky outside was gradually brightening, and the sunlight shone in through the lattice window, but it was still hazy.

After the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, footsteps were heard in the courtyard.

"master."

A man in his forties, with a square face, thick eyebrows, and big eyes, entered first through the door.

This is Qian the Cripple's eldest apprentice, surnamed Zhou. He has been with him the longest and has the best martial arts skills.

Behind Zhou Laoda was a tall, thin man in his early thirties with a fair complexion, who looked like an accountant.

This is Liu Desheng, the second apprentice. He is not good at physical labor, but he is meticulous. He is in charge of Qian Quezi's accounts.

The last person to come in was a short, fat man with a round face and squinty eyes. He looked honest and simple, and when he smiled, he looked like a Maitreya Buddha.

The third apprentice, Zhao Chen, joined the sect the latest, but he was quick-witted and agile, and he was the one who ran errands and gathered information.

There's also a junior sister at the very bottom, but she married into the second branch of the Liu family last year and doesn't live here anymore.

After the three entered and stood in line, Zhou the eldest spoke first: "Master, why did you call us over so early? Is there something you need?"

The room was quiet for a moment. Qian the Cripple didn't say a word, his fingers tapping on the armrest of the armchair.

Seeing this, Zhou Laoda stopped asking questions, stood with his hands at his sides, and looked down at his nose.

Liu Desheng glanced up at his master's face, then quickly looked down again.

He had followed his master for eight years and knew the sound of knocking on the chair.

If you're typing slowly, it means something's on your mind.

The rapid knocking indicates murderous intent.

The most agonizing moment is when the tapping is neither too fast nor too slow, neither too high nor too low.

Zhao Chen wanted to speak, but Liu Desheng nudged him lightly with his toe, and he immediately shut up.

As the daylight outside brightened, the objects in the main room gradually came into view.

The grandfather clock on the long table ticked away, its sound mingling with the sound of Qian the Cripple tapping on the chair, creating a somewhat jarring noise.

"Tonight," Qian the Cripple finally spoke, his voice neither warm nor cold, "a new face came to the auction."

The three apprentices all perked up their ears.

"He was in his forties, wearing a gray cloth long gown, and looked like a poor wretch."

Qian the Cripple patted his lame leg lightly, "He slapped my face twice in front of everyone in the auction hall."

Zhao Chen gasped, blurting out, "Is this guy tired of living?"

He knew he had said something wrong as soon as the words left his mouth, and quickly shut up.

Liu Desheng, quick-witted, carefully asked, "Master, have you figured out that person's background?"

"A stranger, his accent doesn't sound like a local, and he's not carrying any badges." Qian the Cripple leaned back in his chair. "He doesn't seem like someone who makes a living in Tianjin."

Only then did Boss Zhou speak: "What does Master mean?"

"Go check," said Qian the Cripple. "Boss, go to the auction house and find out who this guy is."

"If possible, bring back the teacup the other person drank from."

Boss Zhou clasped his hands in a fist and said, "Understood."

"Second brother, go to the ghost market and find those informants. If you hear even the slightest bit of information, dig it out for me."

Liu Desheng nodded: "Don't worry, Master, I'll go at dawn."

"Third brother."

"Hey!" Zhao Chen took half a step forward.

"Go find the Liu family." Qian the Cripple glanced at him. "Your junior sister has been married for a while now, it's time to get in touch."

"The Liu family has extensive connections and knows all sorts of people. Ask him to help inquire whether any dragons have recently crossed the river to Jinshi."

Zhao Chen's eyes darted around: "Master, should we pass on a message to Junior Sister?"

"You decide what to do."

"Go ahead," Qian the Cripple waved his hand, "be back before dark."

The three responded and left the main room.

As they crossed the courtyard, Zhao Chen couldn't help but lower his voice and ask, "Senior Brother, who exactly is that kid? How dare he mess with us?"

Zhou Laoda didn't say a word and strode out.

Liu Desheng chimed in, "His background isn't important. What's important is that he's been humiliated these past two times, and Master has to make amends."

"What if we can't get it back?"

Liu Desheng glanced at him, said nothing, and stepped out of the courtyard gate.

Zhao Chen stood there stunned for a moment, then shrank back and quickly followed.

. . . . . .

In the mass grave on the outskirts of the ghost market, Chen Mo looked up at the sky.

The east was already showing the first light of dawn; in another hour or so, it would be fully light.

He looked down at the corpse at his feet; its face was so badly slashed that it was unrecognizable.

"With this little skill, you dare to try and rob people?"

Chen Mo muttered something to himself, then squatted down and turned Old Hou over completely.

He didn't have much cash on him, just over thirty silver dollars.

A pocket watch, a dagger, and a bag of tobacco.

The dagger was an imported product, and its workmanship was exquisite.

He put away the dagger, tucked the silver dollar into his pocket, and weighed his pocket watch in his hand before putting it away as well.

He threw the tobacco back onto the dead man.

The mass grave wasn't large, with only a few scattered graves, some with tombstones and others just mounds of earth.

The wild grass was waist-high, rustling softly in the night wind.

Chen Mo directed the paper figures to drag two corpses and three medicine-infused corpses deeper into the forest.

After walking twenty or thirty steps, I found a crooked tree with a hole right under it.

He kicked the corpses into the pit, stomped on them, and manipulated the paper figures to push a layer of soil on top, erasing the traces of the new burial.

After working for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Chen Mo covered the area with a pile of dry grass, then dusted off his hands and headed back.

When we arrived at the place where the interrogation had taken place, there were still a few drops of blood on the ground.

He rubbed his feet on the ground and then picked up a few withered leaves to cover it up.

"Let's go home first; it'll be easier to get things done after dark."