duyong

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 village chief turned to another burly man: "Dadan, you've got the biggest guts here—do it!"

Dadan snapped, "Why should I meddle in their business?"

The chief said sternly, "Revolutionary comrades are family. Your grandpa once took Ma's relief grain. As the only heir of the Liu family, when else will you repay the favor? Don't delay Master." Dadan hesitated, then took the talisman—but upon seeing Ma Li's wife, he collapsed, twitching wildly. The village accountant gasped, "Liu Laosi, does your nephew have epilepsy?"

Liu Laosi frowned, "He's never had fits!" No matter how they called, Dadan continued to seize. Liu Laosi thrust the talisman at a young man: "Ma San, you're family—go!"

Ma San yelped and fled toward the village exit without looking back.

I bit back a laugh—wearing the talisman was harmless, but my yang energy was too weak to do it myself. The chief's face darkened as he pointed at his son: "You! Put it on!"

The chief's son, the young man who'd argued with me, shuffled over reluctantly. To everyone's surprise, he trembled but managed to loop the talisman's chain over the corpse's head, lifting its rotting skull to fasten it. The chief stood proudly, as if parading his brave offspring. The accountant praised, "Xiao Zhao is the bravest—anyone who brags about courage gets my boot!"

Approaching the rice jar, I pinched some 糯米 (glutinous rice), now dark brown and powdery. "Fetch Ma Li," I told the chief.

Villagers, fed up with Ma Li, dragged him from the outhouse where he'd been spying into the latrine. "Master, what now?" he whimpered.

"What?!" Before he could react, five men tore his clothes off. "Stop! We can talk— I'll strip! Even my pants!" He was all bluster, despite his burly frame. Ma Hong frowned but said nothing.

I slit his chest with a knife, catching the blood in a bowl, then mixed it with 糯米 (rice). Using blood as ink, I drew a Soul-Summoning Talisman, intending to challenge the flying corpse.

Burning the talisman to ash, I dissolved it in mineral water and shoved the murky liquid at Ma Li: "Drink this."

Even the chief was curious: "Master, what's this? What does it do?"

"Soul - summoning water. Only family works—husband and wife are best. Drink before midnight, or disaster strikes. The talisman needs your blood to work."

The chief ordered men to force - feed Ma Li. As the deadline approached, frost formed on the well. I raised my hands, chanting:

"Two moons entwine, vermilion yellow smoke spreads,

Qi suppresses evil, corpse filth vanishes,

Harmonize souls, refine spirits, eternal life,

Clear vision, enduring prosperity—

Han Xiaocui, return now or never!"

Chapter 49: The Soul-Summoning Incantation (2/2)