Chapter 427: Chapter 52 What exactly happened?
"On the fifteenth day of the seventh month, open the ghost gate. Ghost gate opens, ghosts come out."
"Ghosts suffer; sell tofu. Tofu rots."
Chen’s Tofu Workshop was located five hundred meters west of the Beili Riverbank.
Through the inn’s ledger, Li Mo could glimpse just a fragment of the great upheaval of heaven and earth. The two businesses had collaborated frequently before the Yihai Year.
Chen’s Tofu Workshop was an establishment with over a century of history, enjoying a strong reputation among neighbors in the village.
Especially its signature brine tofu, perfected across four generations of the family, which even attracted travelers from faraway regions to have a taste.
Until the Yihai Year.
For reasons unknown, Chen’s Tofu Workshop suddenly closed.
Li Mo found a comment about the shop in a volume of Side Room Notes within the inn.
"The brine tofu worsens day by day, becoming increasingly rancid."
Rancid?
Why would a vegetarian dish be described as rancid?
Li Mo and his companion dared not tarry and, after sealing the inn, rushed to Chen’s Tofu Workshop, the shop located in a secluded street corner.
"Heh heh, I thought we picked a treasure of a location, going so long without incident."
Ye Zhuo Daoist, holding his intestines in his hand, had taken the necessary precautions with the coffin, using Spirit Talismans made of special materials to seal the crevices.
"Tofu is a special type of ingredient among common folk, right?"
Li Mo, unwilling to entertain Ye Zhuo Daoist, surveyed the shop ahead of him. It had not forcibly drawn them into the Copper Mirror the way the noodle shop had.
"The Sword Ghost inside probably just started showing signs of escaping. Let’s first circle around the shop and see if there’s anything suspicious."
"Alright."
Ye Zhuo Daoist nodded in agreement. They split up, one going left, the other right.
As Li Mo walked along the walls, he lightly brushed his fingertips against them. A slight dampness could be felt, indicating that the Sword Ghost’s outbreak was not far off.
He was intrigued by the clues regarding the upheaval hidden in the shops, so he couldn’t help but observe everything in great detail.
Within the courtyard, his Divine Sense, already suppressed by ninety percent through the Heavenly Sword Sect’s Mountain Protection Array, now struggled to extend outward at all.
The entire Chen’s Tofu Workshop spanned no more than ten meters, and the two quickly regrouped at the back door.
The courtyard gate was ajar. Inside, the pomegranate tree was already bearing large fruit, the well was covered by a slab of stone, and there were wooden racks drying soybean products alongside neatly arranged water jars.
The two exchanged nods.
Li Mo stepped into the courtyard while Ye Zhuo Daoist stayed outside to set up an Array.
They were two extremes: Li Mo was skilled in all areas, whereas Ye Zhuo Daoist was only passable in everything, barely competent.
"If we find the Mystical Artifact, we might trace the source of the problem."
Li Mo had no intention of using the rattle to enter the Copper Mirror just yet; each Mystical Artifact was incredibly valuable. First, he wanted to retrieve the Dragon Ball.
He scanned the courtyard, his gaze falling on the seemingly ordinary water jars.
Each jar was sealed with rice paste mixed with sesame oil, and faded white paper was affixed to the jar surfaces, bearing year markings.
From the Year of the Rat, Gengzi Year, to the Year of the Pig, Yihai Year.
A total of twelve jars.
Li Mo removed the seal from the Gengzi Year’s jar. A strong aroma of spices wafted out, but the interior was already overrun with mold, leaving only some decayed remnants.
"Brine?"
Li Mo, with memories spanning two lifetimes, immediately realized what the jars were for.
Clearly, the shopkeeper had sealed each year’s brine recipe mix in the jars, adding anti-decay inferior spiritual materials.
Opening one jar per year allowed the family to ensure their recipe was preserved and not lost.
It was a fairly ordinary practice for mortal shops, and they would often add extra spices to make it hard for others to replicate the recipe.
Li Mo lifted one jar lid after another. Apart from varying levels of decay, the spices were largely consistent.
"The Night Patrol Deity’s Taboo is truly terrifying. It can condense an ancient town into an exact replica."
When only the final jar from the Yihai Year remained, Ye Zhuo Daoist had just finished setting up the Array.
"Senior brother, any findings?"
"Don’t rush. We must completely root out the evil."
Other Sword Cultivators, when dealing with the Sword Ghost’s outbreaks, would mostly destroy Mystical Artifacts, forcing the Sword Ghost back into the deeper layers of the Copper Mirror.
Fighting the Sword Ghost directly was a last resort.
Li Mo tapped the water jars, relying on the Cave God’s Eye to glean a vague impression.
After breaking the seal, the jar’s contents were, as expected, spices.
Li Mo squinted. "Judging by the old handwriting and comparing it to Side Room Notes, it’s likely that Chen’s Tofu Workshop was already experiencing issues at that time."
"Something’s off."
"Could it be that the recipe didn’t change, but the taste buds of those eating the brine tofu altered, leading them to find it rancid?"
Li Mo drew the Illusion Fish Sword and stepped into Chen’s Tofu Workshop’s inner room.
Ye Zhuo Daoist grew tense, constantly communicating with the Black Coffin and gauging Daoist Bai Shuo’s response to determine if they were inside the Copper Mirror.
The inner room was scattered with clutter, mostly tools used for making soybean-based products.
A few cured ducks hung by the window.
The objects within the shop, left untouched, seemed to remain perfectly preserved.
"Don’t touch anything. I’ve found the Mystical Artifact."
"So quickly?!"
Ye Zhuo Daoist looked surprised; the noodle shop’s rattle made noise nonstop, yet Chen’s Tofu Workshop hadn’t shown any activity.
Li Mo lifted a thirteenth water jar hidden beneath the chopping board.
"Let’s end this quickly."
"Huh?"
Ye Zhuo Daoist was momentarily stunned as Li Mo used Sword Qi to break the seal. A putrid stench immediately filled the air.
The jar was full of flesh and bones, the surface of the blood water slick with grease, with a few stray spices floating amidst it, seeming eerily out of place.
Familiar sounds of flowing water came, and the air grew damp and cold.
The inner room underwent a sudden transformation—it was now the first layer of the Copper Mirror.
The cured ducks turned into complete rib cages, the basket of yellow soybeans became a pile of numerous human eyeballs, and severed organs were scattered haphazardly on the ground.
Out of the corner of his eye, Li Mo noticed another dangling rope above him.
All the Sword Ghosts near the Beili Riverbank shared a common characteristic: hanging, the source of which seemed to stem from the inn’s Mountain River.
"Not in the first layer of the Copper Mirror. Interesting, it seems the Sword Ghost is hiding from us."
"Such a Taboo..."
Ye Zhuo Daoist sucked in a cold breath as he suddenly noticed his own flesh mutating; his oil had turned into translucent tofu.
Li Mo thrust the Illusion Fish Sword with force, and the tofu workshop was engulfed in thin flames.
"Its Taboo can’t harm me directly, but we must act swiftly, or it may escape to a deeper layer of the Copper Mirror."
With the Great Sun Spiritual Power protecting him, the Sword Ghost’s Taboo-induced mutations were severe, but the Da Ai Mi Tian shielded against its corrosive effects.
Prolonged exposure, however, risked both of them being trapped in Chen’s Tofu Workshop.
"No more wasting time. Ye Zhuo, prepare to seal the Sword Ghost. I’m heading to the second layer. If I’m not back in ten breaths, the Sun Sword Intent will destroy the entire shop along with the Mystical Artifact."
As Li Mo spoke, the flames cleansed the jar’s filth, and he dived inside.
In an instant, he vanished.
"This is damn freaky. All Sword Ghosts are tied to the Copper Mirror, and cleaning up these disasters inevitably involves the Night Patrol Deity’s Taboo."
Ye Zhuo Daoist channeled Spiritual Power into the Blood Soul, his intestines covering every corner of the inner room.
"Cough, cough."
He coughed violently, hacking up a square, oily block nearly identical to tofu, revolting in its uncanny resemblance.
Bang.
The tofu workshop shuddered, the walls marked with long, narrow sword cuts.
Li Mo’s actions in the Copper Mirror’s second layer were indirectly affecting the first layer, causing spiderweb-like cracks to spread across the ground outside the shop.
The disturbances intensified.
Ye Zhuo Daoist noticed numerous covert gazes watching them from the shadows. Though they could not intervene, they seemed to be assessing the situation.
Ten breaths passed, and blood water began to overflow from the jar once more.
A few pieces of brine tofu floated to the surface.
As Li Mo’s figure reappeared, the Blood Soul contracted, sealing the Sword Ghost—pierced by the Illusion Fish Sword—inside a gourd Magic Artifact.
"It’s done."
The Sword Ghost took the form of a potbellied middle-aged man, his skin peeled away to reveal layers of white fat, though his clothes suggested he was merely a mortal shopkeeper at Chen’s Tofu Workshop during life.
"Truly worthy of the Taiyi master whose physical body rivals Body Cultivators..."
Ye Zhuo Daoist’s words trailed off as he saw Li Mo’s brows furrowing as he gazed out the window.
In the street outside the Copper Mirror’s first layer, shadowy figures clad in burial garments crowded together. They had human bodies but the heads of pigs, and rope burns marked their necks.
A murmuring voice emerged.
"Broken bowls fill baskets, filth overflows carts, grains ripen heavy, and abundance blesses families..."
Upon noticing Li Mo and Ye Zhuo Daoist, the pig-headed figures left their heads in place, their necks stretching skyward on thin, elongated ropes.
Headless bodies charged straight toward them.
"What the fuck!!!"
Ye Zhuo Daoist’s scalp tingled as Li Mo brandished the Illusion Fish Sword.
Crack.
Chen’s Tofu Workshop split into two halves.
Li Mo and Ye Zhuo Daoist had already returned to the mortal plane, the shop’s split as smooth as a mirror, with Sun Sword Qi scattering in bright trails.
Ye Zhuo Daoist took a sharp breath.
Was it just an illusion, or had Li Mo’s mastery of Sword Intent grown more fluid and natural?
Nearly ten thousand strands of sword energy surrounded him, yet they remained confined within the courtyard.
Ordinary Sword Cultivators honed their Sword Intent over centuries, but Li Mo’s progress was visible to the naked eye. What would a millennium bring?
The Ghost Tiger Illusion devoured the water jar.
Li Mo paid no mind to the external gazes, heading back toward the inn.
His thoughts lingered on the clues gleaned from the Copper Mirror’s second layer. The Sword Ghost from the tofu workshop had retained a rudimentary sense of reason.
Though it repeated the same words over and over, the information was significant.
As Li Mo walked, he glanced at Ma’s Braised, situated directly across from Chen’s Tofu Workshop. The shop, with its tightly shut doors, had a withered banyan tree within its yard.
Before the upheaval, many strange events had occurred in the town.
They subtly influenced the town, though at first glance, nothing seemed to have changed. The beginnings of the calamity were buried in every corner of the world.
To Chen Sannian, the owner of the tofu workshop, only one matter stood out.
His brine tofu had started to taste like rancid slop fit for livestock. No matter how meticulously he checked the recipe, the flavor didn’t improve.
Meanwhile, enticing aromas wafted from Ma’s Braised, drawing crowds of passersby.
Chen Sannian couldn’t accept it—his century-old brand couldn’t end with him. He was certain it was Ma Qing’s doing.
One night, he snuck into Ma’s Braised’s back kitchen and stole the recipe that had made their business prosper.
He boiled it for ten days.
The flavor returned, but Chen Sannian never saw his wife and children again.
Distraught, he filled the water jars, sealed them, and hanged himself in the inner room.
Even in death, he couldn’t understand why his brine had turned rancid.
What had gone wrong?