The countdown in his mind was like the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, every second's passing clearly perceptible.
Cheng Mo sat in front of the computer, the screen light reflecting on his unperturbed face.
He had no time to waste on useless emotions.
"demon slayer"… Taisho era… Japan.
Key information rapidly combined and analyzed in his mind.
An era where industry was in its initial stages of development, but medical standards were relatively backward, and nights were filled with deadly threats.
What did this mean?
It meant a huge disparity in information and demand.
What he needed to do was leverage the greatest profit with the lowest cost.
Making a fortune with no capital, getting something for nothing—that was the essence of trade.
"Value…" he murmured to himself, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the desktop.
"For that era, for those who fought against demons, what held value?"
Luxurious goods?
Perhaps appealing to a small number of upper-class individuals, but the target customer base was too small, and it could easily attract unnecessary greedy attention.
He needed hard currency, "goods" that could quickly open up opportunities and exchange for survival capital and truly good things.
His gaze swept across the room, finally resting on the computer screen.
Knowledge.
Especially life-saving knowledge.
Modern medicine, when compared to the Taisho era, was almost a dimensionality reduction attack.
Even medical data that had been obsolete decades ago would be an invaluable treasure in that era.
And for him, the cost of acquiring these was almost zero.
He immediately took action.
Leveraging his identity as a medical student and the channels he had accumulated from past translation side gigs, he quickly obtained a large batch of Japanese medical literature in electronic format from the 1950s and 60s from several old databases and hidden corners of online forums.
The content included basic surgical disinfection, antibacterial concepts, common wound treatment, and even simple preparation principles for some early antibiotics.
Although difficult to achieve with the industrial level of that time, the concepts themselves were insightful.
"Cost: almost zero. Potential value: unknown, but extremely high."
He calmly assessed, printing out these materials, categorized and organized.
Next were medicines.
Antibiotics were essential.
He himself was reluctant to use his medical insurance card to get extra medicines even when he occasionally fell ill, but now was not the time to be frugal.
He went to several off-campus pharmacies, using different excuses, and purchased a large quantity of various common antibiotics, highly effective anti-inflammatory drugs, and painkillers in batches.
Each strip of pills was carefully unboxed by him and placed into sealed small bags labeled with simple uses and dosages.
The production dates and modern information on the outer packaging must not be leaked.
"These… in that era, would be life-saving miracle drugs."
He looked at the small pile of pre-packaged medicines, his eyes showing no fluctuation, only calculating in his mind what each pill might exchange for.
Then came the most crucial, and most difficult, part—self-defense weapons and special equipment.
He knew the weaknesses of demons: sunlight, nichirin blade, Wisteria poison.
He couldn't acquire or manufacture the latter two on a large scale for now, but sunlight… UV lamps!
Industrial UV sterilization lamps emit UVC shortwave ultraviolet light, which, although different from the UV in sunlight.
Theoretically, it should have some restraining effect on demons that fear sunlight; even if it's just a brief interference, it would be enough to create an escape opportunity.
As for weapons, he needed something that could truly harm a "demon."
A sharpened, sturdy cold weapon.
These things were controlled items in the main world, completely unobtainable through normal channels.
Cheng Mo didn't hesitate at all, directly opening several gray information exchange forums in Haicheng, jumping IPs with an encrypted proxy, and carefully searching with keywords.
His gaze quickly filtered out posts that were obviously scams or phishing, finally locking onto a seemingly very secretive sub-forum discussing "outdoor craft customization."
He quickly understood seventy to eighty percent of the jargon and slang within, combining context and the slight intuition granted by the Eye of Truth.
He selected the seller whose ID looked the most seasoned and whose posts were the most cautious, and sent an encrypted private message.
"Inquiry: Custom high-precision outdoor machete, Tang horizontal saber style, fully sharpened, high manganese steel or spring steel, absolutely sharp, sturdy, capable of chopping hard wood."
After sending the message, he waited patiently, while continuing to browse other potentially useful information.
About half an hour later, the other party replied, concisely: "Available, offline transaction, cash, no express delivery."
The address was an old industrial park in the western suburbs.
Cheng Mo noted the location and immediately turned to medical forums and medical equipment groups.
An ID noted as "Medical Equipment Second-hand Dealer Old K" was brought to his attention—past posts were filled with information like "Dental UV curing light box for sale," "PCR lab obsolete UV sterilization cart."
Cheng Mo opened the chat box and simply asked a few questions.
Then he rode his old electric bike towards the specific location left by the shop owner.
The night was deep, the streetlights in the suburban industrial area were sparse and dim, most of the factory buildings were pitch black, with only a few scattered lights still on.
One of them, a shop with an inconspicuous metal sign reading "Gushan Creations," was Cheng Mo's destination.
He parked his scooter in the distant shadows and walked over.
Pushing open the heavy glass door, the air conditioning inside the shop was running strong.
A middle-aged man in an oil-stained apron was sitting behind a workbench, grinding some part, without lifting his head: "Look around, custom crafts, no rush orders."
Cheng Mo looked around, some unsharpened craft swords were hanging on the wall, various in style, but the details revealed a rugged and utilitarian aesthetic, not like pure decorations.
His gaze swept over a row of tools and semi-finished products, finally returning to the shop owner.
"Boss, I want to order a proper Tang saber, a comfortable weight, and a stable center of gravity."
Cheng Mo spoke, his voice calm: "Sharpened would be even better."
The shop owner paused his grinding, looked up, revealing a face marked by age and sparks, his eyes scrutinizing.
"Playing cosplay? Or shooting videos? No need for a real blade, unsharpened ones can't even pass security checks."
Cheng Mo didn't respond, just looked at the other party, slowly uttering a few slang words he had painstakingly figured out online: "It's meaningless to display it unsharpened. I need something that can 'cut grass,' 'eat meat,' with enough hardness and toughness, not just for show."
The shop owner raised an eyebrow, put down the file in his hand, and turned completely to size up Cheng Mo.
The young man in front of him looked slender, like a student, but his eyes were calm, with a coolness unbefitting his age.
"Kid, that's quite a boast! A 'meat-eating' tool isn't cheap, and…" the shop owner hinted.
"Money is not an issue, as long as the item is good."
Cheng Mo interrupted him, his tone unwavering.
The shop owner stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly weighing something, then finally grinned and stood up: "Alright, wait here."
He turned and disappeared into the small warehouse at the back, and after a clanging sound of rummaging, he emerged carrying a long, old wooden box, which he opened with a click of the clasp.
Inside the box, on deep blue velvet, lay a blade.
The paint black scabbard was made of old nanmu wood covered in cowhide, wrapped with faded brown silk cords.
The scabbard body was straight, with only a slight curve at the guard, unadorned.
The tsuba was minimalist, a circular brass guard, no larger than a coin.
The shop owner gripped the ray skin-wrapped handle, and with a flick of his wrist!
Ching—!
A low but extremely clear metallic resonance echoed in the confined space.
The blade emerged an inch from the scabbard, revealing not the streamlined curve of a katana, but a straight, sharp, dazzlingly cold, narrow straight blade.
Under the light, the clear "shinogi-suji" line above the edge ran through the entire length, forming two cold, straight lines.
"Sanmai forging, soft iron sandwiched hard steel, clay tempered, straight hamon, hand-polished eight times or more," the shop owner's voice carried a hint of subtle pride.
"The total length of the blade is one hundred twelve centimeters, the blade length is ninety-one, the width is just under three centimeters, and the back thickness is half a centimeter."
He flipped the blade, and in the area near the guard, subtle, pine needle-like silver crystal patterns were faintly visible, shimmering under the light.
These were traces left only by repeated folding and forging.
"The center of gravity is slightly forward, powerful for chopping, but not too far off, so the handling is still good."
"It was originally ordered by an old client, but he went abroad, so it's been with me ever since. Consider it a lucky find for you."
Cheng Mo extended his hand: "Can I try it?"