The King of Feng Shui

Zhang Yucheng, a man in his fifties, now looked like something out of a nightmare. He wore heavy makeup like a woman, lips painted blood-red as if he'd just drunk blood, his face caked in white powder. The eerie resemblance to one of those paper effigies from a mourning shop was undeniable. Even his movements were disturbingly feminine—dainty and seductive, as he walked toward me and Zhang Yunyao, fingers curled like a delicate orchid.

Terrified at the sight of her father in this grotesque state, Zhang Yunyao instinctively leaned into me, trembling with fear.

As Zhang Yucheng drew within a few paces of us, he suddenly smiled eerily and, in a woman's voice, asked, "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

"Very beautiful," I replied with a cold smile.

"Then why did you abandon me?" he asked bitterly, his face turning sorrowful. Tears welled up in his eyes—eyes that, in any other context, might've evoked pity.

If Zhang Yucheng had truly been a beautiful woman, I might've felt some sympathy. But right now, with that clownish makeup on his aging face, he looked downright grotesque—like a possessed version of a tragic opera doll.

A strange thought struck me: Could this spirit be the very woman whose skull we'd unearthed earlier? Why did she say something about being abandoned?

Whoever desecrated the Zhang family's ancestral tomb must have had a deep grudge to bury a woman's vengeful remains in their graveyard. Judging from the fierce aura surrounding her skull, the woman had died violently, her spirit steeped in hatred.

Most likely, she'd been murdered—her skull removed and buried deliberately to curse the family.

That alone was horrifying enough, but I had no time to dwell on it.

Being possessed by a ghost can range from causing illness to outright death. It depends on how long the possession lasts and how strong the spirit is.

I pushed Zhang Yunyao aside and lunged toward Zhang Yucheng. The Ghost-Binding Hand Seal I'd been preparing suddenly flared as I shouted, "By the boundless heavens, I call on the powers of yin and yang!"

With a flash, my strike landed. Zhang Yucheng screamed in agony and was flung back, the black aura around him flickering and weakening.

Although I was mainly trained in feng shui, my master had ensured I learned enough spiritual techniques to deal with these unclean beings—an occupational hazard when you mess with graves and geomancy.

The entity possessing Zhang Yucheng glared at me, now visibly afraid. That hit had hurt it.

But it didn't leave his body.

I pressed forward, launching a flurry of hand seals toward him.

But the spirit had wised up. It started evading me, darting left and right, avoiding every strike. Eventually, it slipped into the main living room.

This wasn't going to work. I had to end this quickly—the ancestral tomb relocation was still unfinished.

With no time to waste, I pulled out a special talisman—the Cloud Thunder Talisman, one of Master's most potent. If it hit, it would obliterate most evil spirits.

As soon as the spirit turned around, I hurled the talisman. It struck Zhang Yucheng's back, unleashing a brilliant burst of blue lightning. He collapsed, screaming again, the black aura lifting from his body.

But then, something unexpected happened.

The dark mist, instead of dissipating, drifted toward the unconscious butler, Old Wang, who'd been knocked out earlier.

It surged into his body.

Old Wang twitched and then sat up slowly, grinning at me with the same twisted smile Zhang Yucheng had worn.

What the hell?

I had just exorcised this thing, and now it had a new host? Was this going to be an endless game of possession musical chairs?

To make matters worse, the Cloud Thunder Talisman hadn't destroyed it. That meant the spirit's hatred was intense—strong enough to resist even that devastating spell. Clearly, I was up against a powerful adversary.

Instead of charging right back in, I quickly went to Zhang Yucheng's side and slapped a Protective Talisman onto his chest, sealing him from being repossessed.

Then I rushed back to Zhang Yunyao and handed her another talisman. "Keep this on your chest and stay behind me."

Pale and shaken, she took the talisman and tucked it close.

Now I turned back to face the possessed butler.

"Had enough yet?" I said coldly.

Old Wang let out the same chilling laugh and, in that eerie female voice, replied, "Not even close. I won't rest until the whole Zhang family is dead. And if you insist on meddling, you'll die with them."

"Big words for a dead woman," I spat. "Let's see how long you last!"

Fury ignited in me. I drew a symbol with my finger in mid-air, golden light flashing as a new Thunder Talisman formed in my palm. I launched it at the spirit-possessed butler.

He lunged at me, wielding a wooden stool like a club. I ducked, and it smashed into the ground with a loud crack.

He grabbed whatever he could and hurled it—cups, teapots, anything in reach.

Dodging the barrage, I charged in. A ceramic mug hit my forehead, sending a jolt of pain through me, but I kept going.

Finally, I tackled him to the ground, slamming my glowing palm—and the freshly drawn talisman—straight into his chest.

The final strike was coming.