In the seventeenth year of the Republic of China, the smoke of warlords' melee has not yet cleared, and the Central Plains has fallen into successive years of famine. Starvation is everywhere, resentment is spreading, and an invisible thing begins to breed in the world - it is not a plague, but more terrifying than a plague; it is not a military disaster, but it lasts longer than a military disaster.
That thing is hidden in Feng Shui, lying on the Qi veins, like a dormant poisonous snake, strangulating the vitality of this land inch by inch.
It was at this time that the last descendant of the southern school of physiognomy emerged.
Everyone in the world says that Feng Shui is superstitious, but none of those who died from the backlash of Qi can laugh.
The story starts from a place called Gui Cailing in western Henan.
