The chemistry laboratory exploded and Chen Mo traveled through time. Barefoot, tattered, and wounded, he lay on the salt flats outside the city of Michigan, waiting for death. A passing salt merchant threw him eighteen copper coins: "The Dongshi Salt Shop lacks an accounting office, go and try." In the salt shop, he took a mouthful of coarse salt - bitter, astringent, and full of muddy taste. The salt workers have been cooking for more than ten years, and no one thinks anything is wrong. Chen Mo opened the notebook left by his brother. Charcoal filter. Shell powder adsorbs. Plant ash settles. A jar of snow-white salt was brought out from his stove. The dignitaries in Bianliang rushed to get it, and the palace ordered them by name. The private salt tycoon sent people to burn down the salt shop and shoot poisonous arrows at the wedding. Cha Yanti set up a trap to frame his benefactor and killed him in prison. Everyone thought he would be ruthlessly crushed. But he didn't believe it. Be a salt, not a salt owl. Take a path that no one else has taken. From a near-death start to taking down the Salt Owl, he just wanted to do something different.
