Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

Arriving at the village general store, I flipped on the light and found the woman writhing on the floor, her skin torn from scratching. Beside her, several large dogs whined softly, nudging her gently—they parted to let me through when I entered.

"Save me... it itches so bad," she begged, blood soaking her clothes. I dashed to the shelves, grabbed a bottle of Erguotou, and forced it down her throat. If alcohol didn't work, I might have to dive into the well with my Seven-Star Sword to fight that toad!

Thankfully, the liquor calmed her. "Where's all your alcohol?" I asked. She pointed weakly—only five bottles left. Odd for a store, but I stuffed them in my coat and hitched a ride on a dog-sledge to the well. Villagers said the disease didn't kill quickly, but made life miserable. I'd prioritize those close to me if supplies ran short.

Dawn broke as I returned. Chen Jia's four sisters showed 溃烂 (ulcerated) skin. Chen Xiaomei sobbed: "Brother Zhang, save my sister—she tried to jump into the well!" Mao Shi had stopped the youngest sister, who blamed herself for her sisters' suffering.

"Drink this—it'll help." The toad's poison, potent as it was, yielded to alcohol—proof that all things have their 克星.

After the sisters downed the liquor, their pain vanished. With the golden toad inactive during the day and villagers still suffering, we six trekked back through the snow. The scene in the village shocked us: doors stood open, men and women lay in yards, skin festering, blood staining the snow.

The Chen sisters raced home as I sighed to Mao Shi: "How long will the alcohol last?"

"Not sure, but the craving will return." He frowned. "The toad needs human sacrifices before the full moon to balance yin and yang. No sacrifices, no emergence."

"Yin-yang balance?" I paused, recalling the hot spring well at Duanlongtai. Well water should be yin, but the warmth violated 五行 (five elements), creating a taiji balance. The toad absorbed yang energy at the bottom, surfacing on the full moon to absorb yin. It lacked pure yin—hence the need for virgin souls. Alcohol's yang energy temporarily countered the toad's yin poison. No wonder my dragon 涎 (dragon saliva) snake skin bait failed—it repelled the yang-fearing toad!

Mao Shi jostled me. "What is it, junior brother?"

"I get it!" I exclaimed, explaining how I'd misunderstood the well's nature. The toad's 修炼 (cultivation) relied on yin-yang balance, making my previous bait useless.

"Then we need yin bait," Mao Shi said. "But we have nothing 邪 (evil) enough."

"Wait—" I produced a 太岁 (taisui) wrapped in talisman paper.

Mao Shi gaped: "That's taisui! It can brew immortality elixirs or turn ghosts into kings! Did you raise ghosts?"

"Of course not!" I told him I'd found it while hunting zombies. He envied me, complaining about his Hong Kong stagnation.

We needed to wait for the full moon, but first, the village's alcohol crisis. As we neared the store, a loudspeaker blared: "Ancient remedy for 邪病 (demonic disease)! 3,000 yuan a cup—price may rise to 5,000 tomorrow!"

A middle-aged man pleaded with Fat Sister, the store owner: "It's just sorghum wine! We're neighbors—your wine cellar must have more. My son's skin is rotting."

Fat Sister sat behind a table, flanked by wolfhounds. A sign read "3,000 Yuan Miracle Cure," with stacks of cash. Villagers knelt or cowered from the dogs.

"Take it or leave it. Only my sorghum wine works—try buying from the town 20 li away." She snapped at an old man begging for a discount, slapping her husband for protesting: "Our son needs a city apartment! You can't earn enough picking ginseng—shut up!"

Mao Shi growled: "I don't hit women, but this is too much." The wolfhounds posed a problem—they'd helped me before, but loyalty to their mistress might override that.

"Delay risks permanent damage," Mao Shi said. I had an idea—using my grandpa's yin-yang secret art. I found two dressing mirrors, had Mao Shi aim one at Fat Sister, and planted a bamboo pole for "Green Dragon in the Sky."

As the sun aligned the pole's shadow with Fat Sister, I chanted a soul - summoning incantation. Sunlight bounced between mirrors, and the shadow vanished, forming a mist that hooked Fat Sister's soul into my mirror. She collapsed as I flipped it facedown.

"Master never taught that!" Mao Shi marveled. We rushed to the store as the dogs barked. Fat Sister's husband, seeing her unconscious, sighed and distributed wine: "Take 2 jin each—more for families with kids. I'll get more from the cellar. We'll call the police when the snow clears."

A cup of sorghum wine eased the villagers' itching. The meek husband shouted: "Help yourselves before she wakes!"