activa-t Chapter 21 The Substitute
Chapter 21 The Substitute
The Taoist priest spoke in a flat tone, addressing the stall owner, but his eyes swept over Zhou Xing, making his meaning clear: the price has been set, and idlers should leave.
The stall owner's old eyes lit up, and he reached out with his withered hand to take it.
Zhou Xing frowned, as if he was pondering something.
He didn't look at the Taoist priest, but stared at the few items on the stall: a dark red rope soaked in oil, black iron nails engraved with crooked runes, and a half-jar of black oil with a pungent smell.
Mr. Qin's notebook contained several pages of hastily drawn diagrams and fragmented notes, mentioning some insidious methods of manipulating corpses.
The rope used to bind the corpse must be soaked in black dog blood mixed with cinnabar, the corpse-suppressing nails must be engraved with "soul-locking patterns," and the corpse-nourishing oil is even more particular, requiring the corpse oil to be slowly simmered with several cold and yin herbs...
The more I look at these items, the more they seem to suit my needs.
Zhou Xing felt reassured and took out Mr. Qin's finger bone bell from his pocket, giving it a "ding-dong" sound.
"Old sir,"
He looked at the stall owner, "How about I trade this piece of iron for the 'Soul-Binding Bell' of the Pai Sect?"
The stall owner's eyelids snapped open, and he stared intently at the bell.
The bell jingled softly, and the tiny incantations etched on the finger bones reflected a ghostly light under the pale lamplight, exuding a chilling aura.
People who collect unusual items are the most discerning.
"Change!"
The stall owner squeezed out a short sound from his throat and grabbed the bell with his withered hand.
"Wait a minute."
The man in the Taoist robe frowned.
He glanced at the bell, a hint of disgust flashing in his eyes, then turned to Zhou Xing:
"My friend, I am a Daoist named Qingxu, and this item is useful to me. What good is this old thing to you, a martial arts practitioner?"
Listen to me, the right path is to take some real money and properly hone your skills.
He glanced at Zhou Xing's clothes and slowly said:
"Or, I can add another fifty dollars and we can exchange them. One hundred and fifty dollars should be enough for you to buy a lot of things."
Beside him, the gunman leader, who had been watching with a grim face, snorted through his nose upon hearing this:
"What's wrong with practicing martial arts? Are Taoist priests some kind of noble class? My skills were earned through hard work, punch by punch!"
Qingxu then seemed to have just noticed the three people; his expression became even more indifferent, and a slight pity appeared on his lips.
"A brute's bloodlust is nothing but brawn and strength. A hundred years from now, he'll be nothing but a handful of dust. The Great Dao is profound and mysterious; you... don't understand."
He shook his head, as if saying another word would be a waste.
The second brother's veins throbbed, but the eldest brother raised his hand to hold him down, his eyes becoming even more sinister.
Zhou Xing seemed oblivious to the heated exchange, his eyes only fixed on the stall owner.
Seeing the stall owner nod, he flicked his wrist, and the bell was about to fall onto the stall...
At that very moment, a sudden change occurred!
The leader suddenly reached out, his five fingers like hooks, fast and cunning, grabbing the bell in mid-air!
But just as he reached halfway out, Zhou Xing's hair stood on end. The hand holding the bell sank slightly, and his elbow leaned back, hitting the point where the boss's wrist was exerting force.
The eldest brother felt a small but extremely skillful force coming from him, and his wrist went sore, causing his grabbing motion to immediately malfunction and miss.
"Tsk."
Zhou Xing then turned his head, glanced at him, and said somewhat speechlessly, "Dude, you're just a kid, grabbing things like that."
The leader's move backfired, and he was exposed in front of everyone. His face burned with embarrassment, and the murderous intent in his eyes almost materialized.
The third brother quickly pulled him back and whispered something.
The stall owner didn't care about any of that. He grabbed the bell and clutched it tightly as if it were a precious treasure. He then retreated into the shadows and stopped looking at the crowd.
Seeing that the bell had been put away, Zhou Xing picked up the half of the tiger tally.
It felt cold to the touch and heavy.
But just as their fingers locked on...
A surge of murderous intent crashed into his mind!
[Guo Zhen's Obsession (Jin): The one who killed me was my junior brother Liu Yishou! The one who possessed my body was an evil puppet! Avenge me!]
Guo Zhen?!
Zhou Xing was startled, and the knuckles of his fingers gripping the tiger tally turned slightly white.
Guo Zhen is dead?
Even his body was replaced?
So who is Guo Zhen now?
He recalled Guo Zhen's generosity and appreciation for him when he had mastered the Mingjin technique for seven days.
Was he himself at that time?
Then he thought of the meeting a few days later.
If a renowned Tianjin boxer who showed goodwill to Ip Man were to suddenly die a few days later while sparring with Ip Man in front of a crowd, and the manner of his death were even more suspicious...
Even if Ip Man had a mouth full of words, he couldn't explain it clearly.
The already complex emotions that Tianjin's martial arts community had accumulated regarding the spread of Southern Fist to the North would instantly ignite into hostility and an attack.
This method is exactly the same as the trap he set for Ip Man when they first met, but it is more vicious and ruthless.
Sure enough, people from the local boxing gym were involved, working in cahoots with the charity.
Zhou Xing's mind raced, but his face remained expressionless as he carefully tucked the tiger tally into his pocket.
Once you're out, you need to find out the truth as soon as possible...
"Hello!"
A cold, slightly angry voice interrupted his thoughts.
Qingxu's expression was somewhat unpleasant. He had clearly taken Zhou Xing's silence and disregard as another form of arrogance.
"Not enough?"
Qingxu's tone grew even colder, "Two hundred silver dollars. This is the final price. For you martial artists, money is hard-earned; don't let greed ruin your plans."
Zhou Xing then looked up at him, his gaze calm and undisturbed.
He didn't reply, but turned to He Jiu and said:
"Let's go to the place where we can meet Tao Zhu Gong."
Tao Zhugong was in the "Green Light District," on the top floor of the Tongtian Pawnshop. But to get to the Green Light District, you had to get past the "Red Light District" first.
He Jiu, who had been huddled behind Zhou Xing watching the commotion, straightened his slumped shoulders upon hearing this, his eyes darting around as he lowered his voice and said:
"Sir, the rule for going to the red-light district is... In the white-light district, you have to actually 'buy and sell' something before the red-light district will let you in."
We just changed the tiger tally, so that's considered complete.
Before he finished speaking, the car shook slightly, and the flowing river view and neon lights outside the window suddenly froze and disappeared, revealing the cold, rusty steel frame of the factory behind.
The carriage door slid open with a hiss, and a smell mixed with stale cosmetics and cold incense ash rushed in.
Outside was a dimly lit stone staircase leading downwards, at the end of which a hazy, unsettling dark red glow could be faintly seen.
"We've arrived at the Netherworld Theater."
He Jiu's Adam's apple bobbed. "We've arrived at the red-light district."
Zhou Xing strode out, saying:
How do they know if a transaction has taken place?
He Jiu followed closely, muttering to himself:
"Sir, the ghost market is just that eerie; it knows perfectly well whether you've been tainted by the 'market's aura' or not."
Seeing this, Qingxu felt somewhat embarrassed and flicked his sleeve with a cold snort:
"Stubborn to the end. Yunqing, let's go."
The senior and junior disciples also headed towards the passage. As Yun Qing passed by, her gaze lingered on Zhou Xing's profile for a moment.
The three musketeers wanted to follow, but the train conductor stopped them.
The train attendant, dressed in a faded old uniform, stood by the train door like a wooden sculpture, his face devoid of any vitality.
"Three people, red-light district, transaction receipt required." The voice was dry and monotonous.
"How did they get in?"
The second son pointed ahead.
"They've got it."
The train conductor didn't even lift his eyelids. "You...don't have any."
The eldest brother's face was ashen. Seeing Zhou Xing's figure about to disappear into the dark red light, he gritted his teeth and said:
"We'll buy now! Do you have anything? What's the cheapest deal you can get?"
The train conductor announced a number.
The three men's expressions turned even more grim. This was no small sum.
The third brother leaned close to the eldest brother, his voice barely audible, like a mosquito's buzz:
"Boss, how about... we just give up? That kid's gone into this hellhole, there's a 99% chance he won't get out. We've already spent the money, and when we get back, the higher-ups might not even acknowledge it!"
The eldest brother clenched his jaw so hard it made a grinding sound, his eyes filled with struggle.
Finally, he abruptly ripped off his old watch, which had been on the clock for many years, and emptied several pockets, slapping them in front of the train conductor:
Is that enough?
The second and third brothers also wore long faces, and took off all the odds and ends they had that could be used as money—copper cigarette holders, small daggers, and even sturdy leather belts—to barely scrape together enough.
The train conductor collected the belongings and handed over three rough pieces of paper with blurry images of a ghost opera house printed on them:
"Take your ticket stub."
Clutching the piece of paper he had almost sold off his entire fortune, and looking in the direction Zhou Xing had disappeared, the last bit of hesitation in the eldest brother's eyes burned into a venomous fire.
Before even touching the person, the brother folded one first. Zhou Xing changed the object and went inside; they had to pay for this piece of scrap paper.
"Walk!"
He spat out the words through gritted teeth, "When I catch that Zhou bastard, I'll smash his bones to pieces and squeeze all that money back from him, flesh and blood!"
Filled with intense resentment, the three plunged headlong into the dark red passage.