Don't Ask Me for a Fortune: Everyone I've Read for Has Met with Disaster

Late one night, a customer walked into Chen Qinghe’s antiques shop. A dark needle-shaped crease between the man’s brows marked him for a violent death. Chen Qinghe held his tongue. That very night, the customer died in a car accident. It was only when the man’s widow came to see him that Chen Qinghe discovered a life-stealing occult technique behind the crash. The inherited face-reading lines in his palm began to burn, and the compass in the corner spun by itself. Forced into a bizarre and uncanny world, he faced broken seals marked by needle-shaped creases, a pair of mother-and-child fiends, eight coffins gathering yin energy... It turned out that the most terrifying things in this world were never ghosts. The last face-reader of the Ma Yi Chen family now reads people by day and observes ghosts by night. “Your glabella is dark, sir. I’m afraid disaster is coming your way. But don’t worry, that’ll cost extra.”