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I was born in the 1980s, and officially stepped into the world of Feng Shui in 2006. Over the past decade, I’ve witnessed mysteries that most would never believe.

In 2013, over 100,000 fish died mysteriously in Liaozhong Reservoir…
In Tower Bay Street, spirits marched in a ghostly parade…
In Wenguantun, shadowy markets rose at dusk…
And in front of the Shenyang Imperial Palace, a ghostly princess once sat in her palanquin.

Were these the workings of nature — or something far more ancient and unseen?

In ten years, I’ve saved lives — and yes, I’ve ruined some too. Feng Shui is like a blade: it bears no evil or virtue. The darkness lies in the hearts of men.

This book is not written to boast about my mastery or to chase after the sensational. I write to share a truth:

Feng Shui can nurture life — or destroy it. There is no good or evil in the art itself. Only in the human heart.

Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

The child ghost's wail was heart - rending, like a child betrayed. Raising a corpse ghost binds master and spirit—any harm to the ghost 反噬 (backlashes) painfully. Some swear oaths to bond with them, treating them like children. Imagine a child's devastation on learning their trusted parent has betrayed them.

But Liu Changsheng was prepared. He seized the ghost's arm, jamming a wheat stalk into its neck as if piercing flesh. The enraged ghost deflated, collapsing to the ground. Liu shook a bronze bell, and the ghost's ferocity faded to docility, standing mutely behind him.

"Revenge," he said slowly. "Heaven gave me Qi Men Dun Jia to exact it. All 400 souls in Zhoujiazhuang must perish. Your deaths are needed to complete the yin - yang funeral."

His tone was cold, resolve unshaken. Hatred had consumed him, yet his plan to swap our lifespans hinted at a once - kind heart.

I pleaded, "Heaven values life—annihilating a village is a grave sin, especially against children."

I spoke sincerely. If he relented, Zhoujiazhuang's curse would lift, and my lifespan might recover. But I faced a choice: fight or let him kill me to swap fates. Swapping would give me decades; fighting meant bearing the village's karma—and possible death.

"Children?" Liu sneered. "A flower watered by evil grows twisted. These are weeds, not flowers—better uprooted."

Yin spirits around me knelt, no longer menacing. His resolve left me torn—fight or not? He gave me no time.

"Rest easy. Dawn will end this. I'll repay your lifespan with a feng shui grave." Liu's bell rang faster. The ghost's eyes burned with betrayal, as if I'd stolen its fatherly love.

Corpse ghosts sense yang energy through their eyes, those green pupils like radio receivers. Liu's bell was a soul - reaper, using wheat to suppress the ghost's will, the bell to command it.

This corpse ghost—aged five or six—meant Liu had raised it for years. 典籍 (Texts) say such fiends eat ghosts and souls, draw strength from blood and moonlight, and live 10 - 15 years.

I recalled Grandpa's words: accumulate yin virtue. Saving lives outweighed all. Fear trembled my legs, but I had no retreat.

Gripping the Seven - Star Sword and a Soul - Suppressing Talisman, I charged. The blade slashed the ghost, tearing its flesh. It staggered back—the sword was potent. I dared not waste the talisman; corpse ghosts ignore physical wounds.

As I pursued, the ghost rolled, moving faster than thought. A kick to my ribs sent me flying, blood spraying. The force was that of a 200 - jin man.

Sliding to a stop against the wall, I was pummeled senseless. The ghost's claws raked my chest and arms, black blood oozing—corpse poison.

Television and books describe corpse poison as decay - borne gas; scientifically, it's a fungal infection. To Maoshan Taoists, it's evil energy invading through yin - death qi, nearly incurable.

Chapter 35: Life and Death Together (1/2)