The Celestial Master in the Age of Declining Magic

"Wind means a breeze passing through a hall, and water means a stream flowing through the courtyard. That's the best feng shui layout for a home." An old Taoist pointed at a large residence and explained this to a young Taoist.

"Master, could you be more specific? I don't think I understand." The young Taoist shook his head and repeated the words several times, but still couldn't figure out what the two things had to do with each other.

"Some things cannot be explained, cannot be explained!" The old Taoist smiled and shook his head, looking utterly mysterious.

Years later.

"Master! Why did you have to die?! What am I supposed to do now?! Master! The auntie down the mountain wants me to check her feng shui, but I'm only half-trained! What should I do?!..." A young man with his hair tied in a topknot lay over a low grave, wailing.

His master was dead, and he had learned only half the trade. He was left tending a run-down Taoist temple. How was he supposed to make a living now?!

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.