Tong Yuan, the sole heir to the Qing Nang sect, spent fourteen years studying in the mountains. He memorized the Book of Changes at seven, mastered the Hanlong Classic at twelve, and honed his orthodox feng shui skills to perfection.
Before he left the mountain, he and his master agreed on a strict rule: he would hand over one-tenth of whatever he earned with the sect’s skills, and each time he asked his master to intervene, the master’s share would increase by another tenth.
On the very first day after completing his training, someone stole all five hundred yuan he had for travel expenses. After three days of stubbornly pressing on, with nowhere else to turn, he made his first call for help. He had yet to land a single job, and already only eighty percent of his future earnings were his to keep.
He set up a fortune-telling stall beneath the wall of the City God Temple. With a single glance, he identified the yin curse of a dead black cat buried beneath a kitchen, and a child who had suffered a high fever for three days recovered that very night. Two bags of quicklime revived a haunted house that had stood empty for ten years, and his reputation soon reached the Liao family mansion.
A century-old Seven Star Dragon-Trapping Formation had sealed off the earth’s ley lines. Old Master Liao lay unconscious in bed, while a black-robed man from the Xuanyin Sect hid in an underground cavern, draining the remaining qi of the dragon vein to practice dark sorcery. Tong Yuan stormed the shadowy cavern, destroyed the altar, and exposed the mole, tearing a way out of an otherwise hopeless situation.
The name “Mr. Tong of Yantang” grew ever more famous, and the Xuanyin Sect’s revenge followed close behind.
Framed and sabotaged by his rivals, he lost his entire fortune overnight, sold off his shop, and wound up penniless once again.
People urged him to ask his master for help, but Tong Yuan merely felt the old phone in his pocket and never called.
Every plea for help meant another tenth of his earnings gone. He would rather die than take that loss.
But he gradually realized that the Liao family’s Dragon-Trapping Formation was only the tip of the iceberg.
A Ming dynasty tomb-sealing talisman in an ancient village’s princely tomb, a yin-nurturing formation deep inside a funeral home, strange movements along the dragon veins in the north and south...
A vast network of ley lines, laid down over a century ago, had already begun to close around him the day he descended from the mountain.
The beginning of the chapter is not bad, the division setting of the divisions is quite novel, and the dialogue is quite natural and quite funny. However, the content is a bit lacking at the moment. I look forward to the editor updating it as soon as possible.