The Great Heat had just passed, yet the city of Huanghai in July remained oppressively hot.
Somewhere cicadas were chirping nonstop in the tall trees, their noise adding to the irritation in the air.
In front of Jing’an Temple stretched a wide city road, and to its south flowed a moat over one hundred meters wide. The riverside green belt was shaded by willows and blooming flowers, offering a pleasant and scenic spot. Young couples often took advantage of the romantic sunset to steal kisses and engage in shy, affectionate moments among the flowers and trees. A hundred meters west of Jing’an Temple ran a narrow alley stretching from south to north, commonly known as Ghost Street.
The alley was about four or five meters wide and two to three hundred meters long. Along its northern half stood old shops—selling funeral clothes, wreaths, or joss paper and money. The southern half, although not particularly grand, had cleaner and more tastefully decorated stores, all specializing in fortune-telling.
But at the very southern end of the alley, a shop that had been vacant for a long time had quietly opened its doors today.
Shui Miao wore a white shirt and black trousers, his white hair neatly combed with a three-seven part. He stuck a cardboard sign onto a broken branch of the banyan tree in front of the shop, stepped back to examine it, nodded in satisfaction, and handed the black marker to a small old man beside him wearing black tank top and baggy shorts. “Godfather, what do you think? Are my characters decent enough?”
The old man was none other than Wang Yong.
The cardboard read in bold letters: “Super Feng Shui Master,” followed by smaller text: “Upholding Heaven’s Will, Helping the People, Free for the Good, Pricey for the Wicked.”
“Heh, the handwriting is pretty good,” Wang Yong scratched his head, his sharp eyes glancing at the sign before turning to Shui Miao with a puzzled smile. “But honestly, what are you trying to do here? You don’t need money. Are you doing this just for fun?”
Wang Yong had been summoned early that morning by Shui Miao, behind Xiong Ying’s back, and had even spent 3,000 yuan to rent the shop for him. But he was completely baffled as to why Shui Miao had done this.
“Fun?” Shui Miao smiled, shaking his head slightly as he walked toward the shop. “Life itself is cultivation. You haven’t reached that level yet, so you wouldn’t understand. From now on, I’m going to live here.”
The shop door was an old wooden panel, dirty and worn. Inside, the space was about twenty square meters, with basic plumbing and electricity, and a usable bathroom. Although the walls were covered in dark, dust-caked cobwebs and the air was musty, Shui Miao fell in love with it at first sight.
“Then, should I clean it up for you?” Wang Yong had brought a broom and other cleaning tools.
Shui Miao waved him off. “No need. They’re the old residents here. I’m already disturbing them by coming in. Don’t clean. There’s nothing else, so you can go back now.”
“Should I tell your grandfather about you opening a shop here?” Wang Yong didn’t fully understand Shui Miao, but he knew the young man was formidable and didn’t dare to ask more.
Shui Miao walked straight into the shop and dragged out a very old and dirty recliner. He placed it under the big tree, lay down on it, propped his feet up against the trunk, closed his eyes, and murmured, “Just let things take their natural course.”
Wang Yong stood there awkwardly for a while, watching Shui Miao remain motionless. He muttered softly, “Alright then, I’m leaving?”
“Come by in two days to get your money back. I’ll repay you the rent.” Shui Miao casually picked up a leaf from the ground and placed it over his face.
“No, no, don’t bother. Such a small amount, are you even embarrassed to repay it?” Wang Yong waved his hands.
“Why should I be embarrassed? Borrowing money means repaying it—that’s only natural. I don’t want to owe you double in my next life. Come find me tomorrow night. I didn’t sleep all night last night, so now I’m going to have a good nap.” Shui Miao shifted his body slightly, adjusted into a comfortable position, and fell asleep.
Wang Yong scratched his head and said nothing more, walking away with lingering glances and a mind full of questions.
※※※
Opening the shop was just a ruse. Shui Miao’s real intention was to create confusion and mislead the mysterious figure who had been manipulating him from the shadows.
He had planned everything out the night before, devising a complete strategy to outwit the unseen force pulling the strings.
As soon as Shui Miao hung up his sign and started business, the neighbors quickly took notice.
When word spread that this young man had the audacity to call himself the “Super Feng Shui Master” and declared he was “upholding Heaven’s will,” it caused a stir throughout the southern half of Ghost Street. Everyone began gossiping about him, some even mocking him.
“Hmph! A young man with no sense of morality, chasing fame by any means necessary,” scoffed a middle-aged man named Qin Gang, who ran a fortune-telling shop next door. In his forties, Qin had a noble forehead and a strong jawline, exuding an air of righteousness.
Known for his straightforward nature, Qin often wore a yellow robe embroidered with the Bagua symbol and had a modest reputation on Ghost Street.
Qin’s voice wasn’t loud, but as soon as he finished speaking, Shui Miao, lying under the tree, coldly and loudly replied, “Dressing like you’re someone important, thinking you’re better than others, calling yourself a master of fate—what you really are is just a fraud. You’ve got no real skills, but plenty of arrogance.”
Shui Miao’s words were clearly aimed at Qin.
“You little brat! Daring to insult me!”
Qin was furious and stormed over toward Shui Miao.
Seeing the potential for a fight, nearby shopkeepers—Zhang the Blind, Wang the Lame, and Sun the Shamaness—gathered around to watch the spectacle.
Shui Miao remained lying down, his voice cold and sharp. “I don’t attack unless attacked. But if someone offends me, I will retaliate. You, a so-called moral master, speak ill behind others’ backs? In my eyes, your character is nothing special. You’re not worthy of discussing the I Ching or Chinese metaphysics. One disagreement and you fly into a rage—you’re no different from a rabid dog. My words are meant to shock you into self-reflection, to remind you to behave better in the future. You should be thanking me. But forget it—I don’t care for your thanks anyway.”
“You… you…”
Qin, his face flushed with shame and rage, clenched his fists, wanting to strike but hesitating due to pride. Torn between anger and dignity, he stood there, unsure of what to do.
An old man in his sixties, Zhang the Blind, stepped forward. “Young man, don’t be too arrogant. If you don’t have the skills, you shouldn’t dare to climb the mountain. We all have real abilities here. You’re new, and we can forgive your ignorance, but you must apologize to Master Qin. Otherwise, we won’t tolerate you.”
Though usually indifferent to one another, the shopkeepers were now united. Zhang and Qin had never been close, but the situation offered Zhang a rare chance to do Qin a favor.
“Apologize? Are you joking?” Shui Miao paused slightly before continuing. “If there’s one person on this Ghost Street who tells the biggest lies, schemes the darkest plots, and cheats people for money, it’s none other than you, Master Zhang. Are you trying to gang up on me because you think I’m just a young kid you can push around? Spreading rumors, distorting facts, stirring up trouble, and currying favor—those are your specialties, aren’t they?”
Shui Miao stood his ground, unafraid and unyielding, leaving Zhang red-faced and speechless, ready to curse—
But Shui Miao cut him off first. “If you dare to curse me, I guarantee you won’t be able to speak a single word for the rest of your life.”
“What? You want to fight me?” Qin rolled up his sleeves, eager for a chance to strike.
Shui Miao smiled coldly. “No skills, no courage. I’ll stay right here, lying down, and still handle all of you.”
“Kid, stop boasting! Look at yourself—you’ve already offended everyone. You’re not here to do business—you’re here to stir up trouble!” Wang the Lame chimed in, suddenly suspicious. “Right! You must be a troublemaker sent by someone. Who sent you here? Tell us!”
“Another fraud with no real skills,” Shui Miao replied lazily. “You, Wang the Lame, claim you can visit the Nine Heavens and drink with immortals. Yet you can’t even foresee such a small matter? You’re slapping your own face and tearing down your own reputation.”
“Damn you! You’re a rabid dog, biting everyone you meet! Don’t you know how to behave properly? I was trying to help you minimize the issue!” Wang thumped his cane furiously, his eyes wide with rage.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Shui Miao removed the leaf from his face, smiling at Wang. “Stop pretending to be good. If you were truly a good person, you wouldn’t be limping.”
Shui Miao’s eyes sparkled with sharpness, and anyone with knowledge would immediately recognize his extraordinary vitality and spiritual energy.
When Sun the Shamaness saw his gaze, she froze in place. Her fox spirit familiar was equally startled.
The fox whispered urgently to Sun: “This young man is a master of profound cultivation. Hurry up and try every means to please him!”
Sun was about to speak when Shui Miao sent her a mental message: “Stay out of it. Do good deeds and accumulate virtue.”
Startled, Sun nodded repeatedly, then turned and hurried away.
Sun was the most powerful among them, a shamaness with real abilities—and she had run away in fear!
Wang blinked, sensing danger, and limped after her.
Zhang the Blind frowned, hearing their footsteps and sensing the shift in the air. He quickly had his granddaughter help him retreat.
“You… you practice black magic?”
Qin stared at Shui Miao, bewildered.
As he looked, Shui Miao’s eyes suddenly turned blood-red. Qin felt a chill run down his spine, screamed, and fled in terror.
“Scared the coward to death!”
Shui Miao grinned, turned back, placed the leaf over his eyes, and continued his nap.
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