After entering the county, Ryan quietly observed the bustling surroundings. Despite being a relatively remote area, the county was quite prosperous. Small vendors lined the main street, hawking their goods, while dozens of shops stood in neat rows along the road. Surprisingly, some shops even sold imported items like matches and kerosene.
However, as remote as the county was, people dressed like Ryan were rare. His foreign-style attire drew curious glances and whispers from the locals as he walked down the street. Ryan could hear snippets of their conversations:
"Whose young master is this? I've never seen him before."
"Look at him. Is he trying to look like one of those foreign devils?"
"Must be rich, though. Just look at the fabric of his clothes. That must have cost several stars."
Feeling uncomfortable under their watchful eyes, Ryan quickly turned into the largest restaurant on the street, seeking refuge from the prying gazes.
A waiter named Steve warmly welcomed him and led him upstairs to a private room. Since Ryan had already eaten and it wasn't yet dinner time, he took out five or six stars and placed them on the table. He looked at Steve and said, "Bring me a pot of tea and a few snacks. Also, tell me about any strange happenings around here. The money's yours if you entertain me well."
Steve's face lit up with joy. "Right away, young master!" he sang, bowing respectfully before hurrying out.
Left alone, Ryan examined the room's furnishings. The antique decor gave the place a nostalgic charm. Large pieces of solid wood furniture showcased exquisite craftsmanship, proof that traditional skills were still valued in this era.
Yet, there were signs of changing times. In one corner stood a hot water bottle, and on a table rested an old gramophone—a trendy luxury item for this period, although outdated by Ryan's standards. Since the county lacked electricity, candlesticks adorned the cabinets instead of kerosene lamps, which would have spoiled the dining atmosphere.
After about fifteen minutes, Steve returned, balancing a tray with a porcelain teapot at its center and four plates arranged around it. "This is the latest Plymouth melon slice tea from this spring, soaked in the finest local spring water," he explained. "The refreshments include lotus cakes, sweet-scented osmanthus cakes, almond tofu, and more osmanthus cakes."
Ryan nodded approvingly and tossed a few more stars to Steve. "Good work. Now, tell me about any strange occurrences around here. I'm not interested in everyday gossip."
Steve pocketed the stars, his eyes gleaming with gratitude. He hesitated for a moment before replying, "Ah, you're looking for strange stories, not the usual gossip. Well, you came to the right person..."
Encouraged by the generous tip, Steve enthusiastically recounted local rumors. Unfortunately, most were about domestic squabbles or scandalous affairs—far from the supernatural tales Ryan was hoping to hear.
Irritated, Ryan interrupted, "I'm looking for stories about the unusual, not petty gossip. Got anything better?"
Realizing his mistake, Steve quickly apologized, lightly tapping his mouth. "Forgive me, young master. Of course, you wouldn't be interested in such trivial matters. But if it's strange tales you're after, I do know of some. Not far from here is Renjiazhen, where a man named Stuart is known for subduing demons and hunting ghosts. He's been invited to this county by wealthy families several times, so his reputation is well-known."
Ryan's eyes widened. This sounded like the world of Mr. Zombie—a series of legendary zombie stories. It suddenly made sense why he had felt an eerie imbalance of yin and yang upon entering this realm.
To confirm his suspicions, Ryan probed further. "Tell me more about Renjiazhen."
Steve was eager to share his knowledge. "Renjiazhen is about thirty miles away. Its original name was Fuzhen, home to many wealthy families. Over time, the Ren family became the most influential household, so it was eventually renamed Renjiazhen. And speaking of the Ren family, Miss Ren recently returned from overseas, riding a horse through the county in a Western dress. Quite a sight, I must say."
This confirmed it—he was indeed in the world of Mr. Zombie. Ryan handed a few more stars to Steve and instructed him to arrange a carriage to Renjiazhen. Steve accepted the money with a wide grin and hurried off to fulfill the request.
Ryan sipped his tea slowly, savoring the delicate flavor while finishing the refreshments. Afterward, he went downstairs and boarded the waiting carriage, which set off along a dirt road heading north.
Thanks to his sophisticated attire, Ryan passed through several security checkpoints unchallenged. An hour later, he arrived at Renjiazhen, a bustling town that seemed to house tens of thousands of people.
After stepping off the carriage, Ryan wandered among street vendors, asking about a man named Cummins. The first vendor he approached—a man crafting sugar paintings—turned out to be a treasure trove of information. Ryan bought a few candy paintings and handed them out to children playing nearby, earning the vendor's gratitude and cooperation.
"Ah, everyone around here calls him Ninth Uncle," the vendor explained. "He lives outside the town in a place called the Oval. He has two apprentices—one is the nephew of the rouge shop owner, and the other is a more serious fellow. Ninth Uncle is well-respected, but he's also known for being thrifty. He wears the same old coat every day and never buys more than half a pound of meat at a time."
A wave of nostalgia hit Ryan. This was indeed the world of Hong Kong zombie movies—a childhood memory brought to life. Despite being a popular setting in time-travel novels, experiencing it firsthand gave him an exhilarating thrill.
After gathering all the information he needed, Ryan continued exploring the town, snacking on a leftover candy painting as he strolled down the quaint streets.
Once he felt familiar enough with the town's layout and confirmed that the story's events hadn't started yet, Ryan made his way to the outskirts, determined to meet the protagonist of this world—Overton, the Ninth Uncle.
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