The moment his divine sense reached the room's entrance, it struck an invisible barrier and could not penetrate it at all.
"Interesting."
Chen Mo tried several times before withdrawing his divine sense, his expression unchanged.
A middleman selling information in a side alley off Temple Street actually had a restriction in his shop capable of blocking divine sense.
He had originally harbored some doubts, but now he felt much more at ease.
This restriction was not particularly sophisticated, but it was rather ingenious.
It did not follow the methods of Daoist talismans. Instead, it resembled Buddhist incense and wish-power mixed with the crude folk techniques of spirit mediums.
Its power was weak, but it worked.
The man on the bench saw Chen Mo standing still and gave him a sidelong glance.
The man was in his early thirties, wearing a cream-white fitted suit with a wide collar that vaguely revealed an eagle claw tattooed across his chest.
His right leg rested over his left knee, his dangling foot shaking idly.
Chen Mo carried his wicker case to the other end of the bench and sat down.
After about the time it took an incense burner to burn, the door behind the cloth curtain opened.
Out came a burly, fat man with a string of amber prayer beads around his neck, each one as large as the pad of a thumb.
"Next."
The man on the bench sprang to his feet, lifted the curtain, and slipped inside.
He went in quickly, and came out just as quickly.
Less than fifteen minutes later, he emerged with an ugly expression, making the brass bell on the door jangle wildly as he slammed it.
"Next."
Chen Mo picked up his wicker case and lifted the cloth curtain.
The inner room was darker than the