"What's that little fool from the Corpse-Stitching Shop up to now? He's running through the streets with people chasing him."
"He's gone crazy again, I guess. He saw someone on the street and told them that when they died, they had to come to his shop to get stitched up. Happens all the time."
"Haha, that little fool sure is a riot. Look, even Huang Xiaoliu, the guy selling Strength Pills, can't keep up. He's been chasing him forever and now he's worn himself out. And this is the guy who goes around bragging that his Strength Pills are so good, his wife screams all night long."
"You believe that crap he sells? It's just cornmeal balls rolled up into pills. He can't even perform himself. Whenever he sets up his stall, his wife invites men home. Everyone within two streets knows she's hospitable, except him. If you really need something, Zhang Pizi, the guy selling Dog Skin Plaster by Tianqiao, has a batch of 'One-Patch Straight.' That stuff works pretty well."
"Who needs it? You think I need that kind of thing? But you sure know your stuff, brother. You've used it plenty, haven't you?"
"Of course not! I've never used it. I just heard it from a friend, that's all."
"Yeah, right. Neither of us needs it. Anyway, I was just asking for a friend. Hahaha."
"..."
In the streets and alleyways of Caishikou, ordinary folks went about their business and their lives, a vivid panorama of everyday existence.
Lin Shou had recently given his Corpse-Stitching Shop a major publicity boost.
He'd attracted a bunch of hecklers who hung around the entrance and loudly cursed him, but he didn't care. At least the ad seemed to be working: corpses had been arriving every day lately.
Over the past few days, Lin Shou had stitched out a patch of Dog Skin Plaster, a Strength Pill, a Cloud-Probing Hand, and a Lock-Picking Technique.
The Dog Skin Plaster was good stuff, too. It promoted blood circulation and dispersed stasis, drove out cold and toxins, sharpened the mind, purified impurities, and tempered the body.
Lin Shou had worn it all night. By the next morning, a layer of impurities had seeped out of his entire body. After relieving himself, he washed with water from the well. Old grime and dead skin peeled away, leaving his skin taut and firm. Impurities were flushed from his organs and blood vessels, and his blood surged freely through his body.
His whole body had been thoroughly forged and tempered. He felt renewed from the inside out.
Lin Shou's body had still carried some old injuries and hidden ailments from before, back when he'd been beaten while fighting for food in the refugee camp. They used to ache on damp, rainy days, but now they'd all healed.
Dog Skin Plaster tempered the body, enhanced one's appearance, and boosted the immune system. Good stuff!
As for Cloud-Probing Hand and Lock-Picking Technique, there wasn't much to say. They were the skills of thieves and pickpockets, for stealing things and picking locks. Lin Shou figured he wouldn't have much use for them.
Then there was another Strength Pill.
Lin Shou liked this thing a lot.
Simple, brutal, and effective.
Lin Shou had obtained plenty of good things from the Record of Selling Corpses. There was the peerless Corpse-Stitching Needle Technique, which could bring the dead back to life, and Subtle Perception, which made him a master of deduction. Then there were the Art of Prosthetic Substitution and the Beast-Making Art, both lost arts of the martial world that few people knew.
Judging purely by their merits, those skills were certainly good.
But he could only appreciate how good those crafts were when he had a use for them. Most of the time, he couldn't feel their effects.
The Strength Pill was different.
Once he swallowed one, his overall physical fitness improved by leaps and bounds.
The power in his fists, the strength in his legs, the increasingly defined abs and V-lines around his waist—these were tangible improvements he could feel every moment.
The rush of getting stronger was addictive.
And now Lin Shou had swallowed a second Strength Pill.
He could clearly feel his physical fitness continuing to rise. He'd completely outgrown the weak, sickly beanpole body of his predecessor.
Under his coarse hemp clothes, he didn't look particularly muscular. He still appeared slender. But beneath the surface, his muscles were perfectly taut, his streamlined body agile and nimble, his control over his body approaching perfection. His muscles had become freakishly resilient, and his bones astonishingly strong. He'd long since undergone a secret transformation from the inside out.
Lin Shou did push-ups with both hands, one hand, then one finger, all with ease. After a hundred, his breathing was still steady. He wasn't even winded.
Handstands, splits, somersaults, one-arm levers, double-arm levers, triple-arm levers—Lin Shou performed them all with the effortless grace of an elite gymnast. His core strength, flexibility, and balance were terrifying.
Lin Shou clenched his fist. He felt he was getting close to the limits of human physical ability as he'd understood them in his previous life.
He wondered what would happen if he took another pill. Would it stop working once he reached the limit, or could he break through it?
Never mind. He'd find out when the time came.
For now, he had more important things to do.
Lin Shou watched the three incense sticks in front of him burn down steadily. He picked up his corpse-stitching needle and prepared to stitch a corpse, but...
"Corpse stitcher vacancy at Corpse-Stitching Shop Number Fifteen! Corpse stitcher vacancy at Corpse-Stitching Shop Number Fifteen!..."
The Obituary Bird's shrill, unpleasant voice rang out outside.
Lin Shou frowned slightly, wondering how many that made.
If it had been the only death announcement that night, he wouldn't have found it strange. A few people had died before; one more was no big deal.
But there had been one the day before yesterday, one yesterday, and now one today. This was the third.
A corpse stitcher had died three days in a row. That seemed like a rather high rate.
He'd have to go check what was going on tomorrow.
The night passed without incident. The next morning...
Lin Shou got up early, lifted the door panels, and opened the shop.
He was just about to head to Corpse-Stitching Shop Number Fifteen to take a look when a night-soil collector passed by, hauling a cartload of foul-smelling human waste from the Five Grains Wheel of Rebirth. The stench drove Lin Shou right back inside.
Indoors, Lin Shou pinched his nose, his face dark as he thought, Good grief, every line of work has its hardships. Not just anyone can be a night-soil collector.
Once the cart had gone far enough and the stench had mostly dissipated, Lin Shou hurried to Corpse-Stitching Shop Number Fifteen.
Usually, when a corpse stitcher died, a clerk from the Bureau of Corpse Management came to collect the body.
But when Lin Shou got there today, there was no one in sight.
The Corpse-Stitching Shop was locked. Lin Shou peered through the window. Everything inside was neatly arranged. There was no corpse on the cold bed, and no corpse on the floor.
There was no one in Corpse-Stitching Shop Number Fifteen at all.
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