Old Master Zhao finally lay in the auspicious burial site he had so carefully chosen after his death. However, no one outside the family knew—and not even his own son was aware, let alone himself—that the site had already been ruined. His son was slightly puzzled because his father had once told him the coffin lid was brown, but when the “Eight Jin Gang” (married men specially responsible for burying the dead, a custom later frequently used by Master Wang, the half-immortal) dug up the grave, it turned out to be black. He murmured to himself, “Could it be that my father, in his old age, simply misjudged the color?”
Of course, he had no idea about the three curses either, for Old Master Zhao had not revealed everything to him. Therefore, he remained cheerful in his heart, thinking that with his father buried in such a blessed location, his business would flourish and his descendants would grow increasingly prosperous and wealthy.
Strangely enough, since Old Master Zhao was buried in this ruined site, his fortune indeed seemed to rise steadily, like a fish thriving in water, and his business expanded continuously. Except for that violent storm, the other two curses appeared to have no effect at all. Most astonishingly, when villagers carried Old Master Zhao’s corpse up the mountain, they finally saw the legendary stone coffin, and everyone was amazed.
Some said, “The Zhao family will soon become extremely wealthy.” Others claimed, “The Zhao family will produce government officials.” Some even went so far as to say, “They might even produce a central government official.” There were sounds of admiration, jealousy, and curious onlookers. In any case, regardless of what people said, Old Master Zhao’s son was delighted.
However, reality proved far more complicated than they had imagined. Since Old Master Zhao’s death, the Zhao family seemed to have begun bringing misfortune to their women, but everyone overlooked this because of their growing wealth, thinking, “That’s just how rich families are.” For example, a year after his father’s death, Zhao’s son, relying on his wealth, drove away his original wife and married a younger woman. But this young woman suddenly died of a heart attack just forty-nine days after their marriage. His son, Zhao’s grandson, did not follow his father’s example by abandoning his wife, yet she still died of illness at the critical age of thirty-six. Then came the “good fortune” to the third generation—Zhao Shan. His situation was even worse than anyone could have imagined. Not only did his wife fail to bear sons who could carry on the family legacy, but she left behind three “troublesome sons” before dying. Even worse, his business was no longer as prosperous as his grandfather’s—it seemed to be heading into decline.
Standing before his grandfather’s tomb, gazing at the surrounding landscape, Zhao Shan couldn’t help but feel puzzled: “Even as a layman, he could tell this should indeed be a blessed site. High ground offers a far view; it gathers the wind and holds the energy, enjoying a unique advantage. But why, already by the third generation, did his wife die young, and why did he end up with three sons who brought shame to the family? Could it be that this site is not actually a true feng shui treasure?
Could it be that the geomancer made a mistake back then?
If it were true, why would the business already be showing signs of decline by the third generation?
It must have been Grandfather’s mistake—he must have hired a fake geomancer,” Zhao Shan couldn’t help but suspect.
“If our family’s burial site is not the real stone coffin location, where is the true one? Could it still be hidden somewhere on Sisheng Ridge, or perhaps in another part of Xiushan Village?” Although worried, he preferred to believe that their burial site was indeed the real stone coffin location. He had once heard some old folks, who understood feng shui only superficially, say that yin and yang complement each other, and this principle governed everything in the world.
A blessed land could also be a cursed one. Heaven bestows great responsibilities only upon those who endure great trials—just like how Master Xuanzang faced eighty-one hardships on his journey to fetch the sutras. Sima Qian, a great literary figure, was castrated by Emperor Wu of Han. King Goujian of Yue was even forced to serve as a slave for ten years. He comforted himself: “Everything is temporary. If I marry another wife, surely I will have a heroic son.”
“It must be like that. Great fortune must come with great hardship—this has always been the case for great men throughout history,” Zhao Shan suddenly couldn’t help but smile. He turned around and waved at Old Zhang, the family steward, signaling it was time to go down the mountain. But just as they were about to leave, they suddenly saw someone walking toward them from the opposite direction.
Earlier, just as Zhao Shan was about to descend the mountain, he unexpectedly encountered a man approaching from the other side. This person was none other than Zhang Enpu. By now, Zhang Enpu was no longer the clueless old man he once was. Thanks to his three great deeds—stopping a drought demon, subduing a vengeful spirit, and calming malevolent energy—he had been revered as a deity by villagers from both villages. Since arriving in Xiushan Village, he had sensed that the area possessed excellent feng shui, a convergence of powerful dragon veins. Driven by his professional instinct, he followed the energy lines and spiritual currents all the way to Sisheng Ridge.
When he saw the location of the Zhao family’s ancestral grave, he first smiled with satisfaction, but then his expression turned to shock and dismay: “What a pity! Which immoral geomancer deceived this family, allowing them to be buried in a ruined site? Alas! Such a precious location has been wasted. What a sin!”
Muttering to himself, he walked toward Zhao Shan and his group.
“May I ask who you are, and why you are here?” Zhao Shan noticed him.
Zhang Enpu smiled but did not answer directly: “You’re here paying respects to your ancestors?”
Zhao Shan replied, “Yes, it’s Qingming Festival, so we came to visit our ancestors.”
Zhang Enpu said, “This place gathers powerful energy, facing the sky like a crescent moon—it has excellent feng shui. The descendants of this tomb must be especially prosperous and wealthy.”
Zhao Shan shook his head, “You flatter us. We’re just average, nothing like what you described.”
Zhang Enpu said, “You don’t need to be modest. Your family’s financial fortune is guaranteed within three generations. But beyond that, it’s hard to say.”
Zhao Shan was deeply shaken, feeling as if Zhang Enpu had spoken directly from his own thoughts: “Is that so? How exactly will it turn bad?”
Zhang Enpu stroked his beard: “Seeking a divine burial site but instead falling into deception, wealth will dissipate and descendants will become foolish. After three generations, your branch of the family will face extinction, erased from the family tree.”
Zhao Shan was stunned, nearly fainting, but he tried to remain calm and decided to test the stranger: “Haha, who exactly are you, sir, to curse my entire family like this? Aren’t you afraid I’ll have you beaten up?”
Zhang Enpu replied calmly, “You don’t need to know who I am. I’m just telling you the truth. Bitter medicine cures illness, and honest words, though unpleasant, are always valuable.”
Zhao Shan frowned: “On what basis do you claim this grave will bring extinction by the third generation? Didn’t you just say the feng shui here is excellent?”
Zhang Enpu nodded: “Indeed, I did say the feng shui here is excellent, but unfortunately, someone has already ruined this site. Your ancestor was buried in a broken feng shui point. Under normal feng shui conditions, your family would have perished long ago from internal strife. Fortunately, this is a rare, once-in-a-thousand-years treasure site. Though damaged, it still preserved three generations of wealth and prosperity for your family.”
Zhao Shan said, “Is that so? You sound so convincing, but maybe you’ve just read too many myths and legends. I never believed in feng shui—it’s all superstition. Let me tell you, I’m doing just fine. My children are healthy, my business is growing bigger and better, and I’ve never felt better. What are you scaring me with all this yin and yang nonsense?”
Zhang Enpu was not angered but spoke calmly: “You don’t believe me? Then let me ask you—whose remains are buried in this grave?”
Zhao Shan replied, “My grandfather.”
Zhang Enpu nodded and calculated something with his fingers before saying, “Hmm, you’re exactly the third generation. Let me explain, and you can judge for yourself. Let’s start with your grandfather, the one buried here. He was crushed to death when lightning struck a tree and knocked it over. That was a punishment from Heaven, a divine retribution for disturbing the stone coffin and provoking heavenly fire.”
“Then came your father. After your grandfather’s death, his business prospered increasingly, and he drove away his original wife, marrying a young woman named Zhao as his second wife. Unfortunately, she died of illness just forty-nine days after the wedding. Then came your father’s generation—his business grew even better, and his wealth accumulated further. But your grandmother died unexpectedly at the age of thirty-six. And now it’s your turn. Although your moral conduct has improved slightly compared to previous generations, the fate of your family has already reached its end and cannot be changed. Your business is gradually declining, and your wife could not escape the fate of dying young, passing away when you were forty. That alone would have been bad enough, but she also left behind three sons who are utterly useless. One is foolish, one is mentally unstable, and one is lazy and idle. They cause you trouble every day and care nothing for the family’s affairs. Am I right?”
Zhao Shan was stunned, almost wanting to kneel before this living deity. This man had merely looked at his ancestor’s grave and then recited every detail of his family’s three generations as if he had known them intimately. Sighing, he shook his head with a bitter smile: “Sir, you are truly a master. Everything you said is true. My grandfather was indeed struck by lightning. My father, my grandfather, and I have all failed to escape the fate of losing our wives early. Most importantly, I really do have three useless sons, and my business is getting worse and worse. Sigh, sir, you mentioned earlier that my grandfather was buried in a broken feng shui site. What exactly do you mean by that? As far as I know, this site was personally selected by a geomancer at the time my grandfather hired him!”
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