The King of Feng Shui

I was directing the workers to continue digging up the graves. Relocating ancestral tombs is a meticulous affair—it must follow the exact order in which the coffins were originally buried. One misstep could lead to serious consequences.

Given that the Zhang family's ancestral graves had clearly been tampered with, I had to be extra cautious. Who knew what else had been buried or hidden within the tombs? I needed to supervise every coffin unearthed, personally.

Just then, Zhang Yunyao walked over, visibly anxious.

"Young Master Wu, something's wrong! My father—something's happened to him! The housekeeper just called me. He said my father suddenly went berserk, smashed everything in the house, and... his voice changed. He's speaking in a woman's voice!"

My heart skipped a beat.

I immediately thought back to the white wooden box we dug up earlier—the one containing the resentful bone remains. A wave of baleful energy had surged straight into Zhang Yucheng's face. I had done my best to expel it at the time, but clearly something had gone awry.

Now, this bizarre behavior was likely the effect of that malevolent energy lingering in his body.

And if his voice now sounded like a woman's, then it was probably a female skull inside that box.

"We don't have time to waste," I said gravely. "Zhang, I'm going back with you. This isn't something you can handle on your own."

"But what about the relocation?" she asked hesitantly.

"We'll put it on hold until I return," I replied.

"Alright." She nodded.

Before leaving, I turned to Uncle Hu. "Stay here and keep an eye on everyone. No more digging until I come back. Understand?"

Uncle Hu nodded. "Young Master, don't worry."

Still uneasy, I looked over at Zhang Yunliang. "Brother Zhang, you're in charge while I'm gone. Do not continue digging until I return. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah... whatever," he replied impatiently, eyes glued to his phone.

I had nothing more to say. The man seemed uninterested in anything—even when his own father was in crisis, he didn't ask a single question.

What a bizarre human being.

Soon, I got into Zhang Yunyao's car and we sped off toward the old family residence. She drove like the wind, and in just over half an hour, we were back.

As soon as we pulled up, I could sense that something was very wrong.

A thick aura of yin energy clung to the house like a fog. I grew alert immediately.

The front gate was locked tight. Zhang Yunyao jumped out and began pounding on the door. "Uncle Wang! It's me—Yunyao! Open the door!"

No response.

"Don't bother. Something's already happened," I muttered.

I stepped forward and, with a single kick, burst the door open.

Zhang Yunyao stared at me, stunned. She hadn't expected me to be so strong. The gate had been latched from the inside, but I'd kicked it clean off its hinges.

Years of training under my master had taught me more than just rituals—I'd learned physical techniques too. I may look lean, but I was all muscle.

As we stepped into the courtyard, a chill wind blew past us. Even I felt goosebumps crawl across my skin.

Zhang Yunyao instinctively moved closer to me, grabbing my arm with trembling hands. "Young Master Wu… why is it so cold here?"

"Stay close to me. Don't move more than three steps away," I said firmly.

That made her even more nervous. She clung tightly to my side, her body brushing against mine, the scent of her perfume—sweet and faintly floral—wafting into the air.

We reached the entrance to the main house.

Just as we approached, a woman's eerie laugh echoed from within, sending chills down both our spines.

"There's no woman in our house... Just Uncle Wang and my dad," Zhang Yunyao whispered, panic rising in her voice.

I said nothing and tried the door. Locked.

Without hesitation, I kicked it open.

A wave of icy air and the metallic scent of blood greeted us.

As the door swung open, we saw a figure lying in the main hall.

Zhang Yunyao rushed forward. "Uncle Wang!"

Sure enough, it was their housekeeper. His head was covered in blood, still bleeding, but he was alive—just unconscious.

I tore a strip of cloth from his clothing and bandaged his head as best I could.

Before I could finish, that unsettling female laughter rang out again from somewhere deeper in the house. Cold. Shrill. Bone-chilling.

Zhang Yunyao's hands trembled as she clutched my arm again. "Young Master Wu, I'm scared…"

"Don't be. I'm here," I said. Standing up, I guided her in the direction of the sound.

The laughter was coming from the bedroom.

When we reached the doorway, we were met with a truly horrifying sight.

Zhang Yucheng was sitting at an antique vanity table, back turned to us. He was holding a comb and brushing his hair like a woman—his motions slow, graceful, even seductive.

All the while, he laughed that same piercing, ghastly laugh.

A thick black aura of malevolent energy surrounded his head. He was clearly possessed.

"Dad..." Zhang Yunyao called sotly.f

No response.

I stepped forward and shouted, "Wicked spirit! Show yourself!"

Zhang Yucheng slowly stood. When he turned to face us, both of us recoiled in shock.

He was wearing makeup. Pale foundation. Blood-red lipstick. His old face, painted up like that, looked downright terrifying.

He took two steps toward us, then giggled in a woman's voice. "Do I look pretty?"

Pretty, my ass. I'd never seen anything so disturbing.

Zhang Yunyao was frozen with fear, clinging tightly to my arm.

As for me, I had already formed the incantation for the Ghost Severing Technique in my hand, ready to strike at a moment's notice.