Under One Person: Feng Shui Master, I Will Protect the Mountains and Rivers with My Own Body

In western Hunan in the late 1990s, the clouds in the sky looked like a dirty rag soaked in water, pressing down heavily and turning the distant mountains gray and black.

At the entrance of a remote mountain village, the red paint on a blue stone tablet has faded so much that the characters are no longer legible. Two figures, one tall and one short, are crouching beneath the tablet, looking as if they had fled from some year of famine.

"Dad, can you stop blowing?" A child of about six years old had a messy, unkempt hairstyle and a dirty face. Only his eyes, which were clear and bright, showed a disdain that was incongruous with his age.

His name was Yan Sen. In front of him was a chipped, broken bowl, completely empty, without a single coin in sight.

His stomach rumbled at an inopportune moment, the sound particularly loud in the quiet environment.

"Did I blow it? I call this reminiscing about the glorious past." His father, Yan Que, a man who looked to be in his thirties, was wearing a faded old cloth shirt and a pair of cloth shoes with worn-out soles, and was happily puffing on an unlit pipe.

He glanced sideways at his son, a smug look on his face, as if he'd been there all along: "Back in the day, when your father stood in Beijing, countless high-ranking officials lined up to invite me to dinner. What did we eat? Bird's nest and shark fin! You don't know anything about this!"

Yan Sen rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Bird's nest and shark fin? I think it's more like steamed buns and pickled vegetables. You've been bragging for so long, at least try to trick me into giving you a steamed bun."

"Hey, you brat!" Yan Que pretended to hit him on the head, but then lowered his hand halfway through and said sullenly.

"It's just bad luck. You wait, once Dad recovers, I'll treat you to the best of everything."

Yan Sen pursed his lips and ignored him.

He was so hungry that his stomach was practically sticking to his back, and all he wanted was something to eat.

He sniffed; there was a strange smell in the air.

It wasn't the smell of rotting vegetation in the mountains, nor was it the usual earthy smell; rather, it was a strange, putrid odor, as if someone had mixed freshly cooked rice with rotten, dead rat meat.

"Father," Yan Sen tugged at Yan Que's sleeve, his little face turning serious.

"This tastes wrong, it's like food for the dead."

Yan Que's playful smile vanished instantly. He took the pipe out of his mouth, sniffed it, and frowned. "You little brat, you really did catch that smell."

As the father and son were whispering to each other, several villagers carrying hoes hurriedly walked by on the village path.

When they saw Yan Sen and his son squatting at the village entrance, their faces were filled with disgust and wariness, as if they had seen something unclean.

"Hey! Where did this beggar come from! Get out of here! We don't keep outsiders in the village!" a burly man shouted, slamming his hoe on the ground with a menacing tone.

Yan Que immediately put on a fawning smile, rubbing his hands together and said, "Brother, please be kind. My son and I are just passing by and asked for a drink of water. It's getting dark and we have nowhere to go, so we're just resting here. It's no trouble at all."

"No! Get out of here!" The man waved his hand impatiently, as if shooing away flies.

Yan Sen was too weak from hunger to pay attention to anything else. But then his eyes caught sight of the man's feet.

"Uncle," Yan Sen said crisply, his voice not loud, but every word was clear.

"Why aren't your heels touching the ground? Is your back very heavy?"

The man paused for a moment, then subconsciously looked down at his feet.

He didn't think anything was wrong, but after the kid said that, his heart skipped a beat for no reason. He felt... like... a chill ran down the back of his neck.

"What nonsense are you spouting, you little bastard!" The man, enraged, raised his hoe to intimidate him.

But as soon as he exerted force, he suddenly felt as if a bull had rammed into his back, and an immense weight suddenly pressed down on him. He let out a strange howl, and his legs went weak, causing him to kneel straight down on the ground with a "thud".

"Oh my god!"

Even stranger things happened.

The coarse cloth on his back suddenly ripped open with a "rip" without being touched by anything, as if it had been fiercely scratched by some unseen claws.

The cuts were so deep that flesh was visible, and faint traces of blood were seeping out.

The surrounding villagers were so frightened that they retreated in terror.

Yan Sen blinked, and only he knew that a faint cyan-gold light had just flashed in his eyes.

In his field of vision, the moment the man knelt down, a blurry black cloud was lying on his back, and the outline of claws seemed to flash by within the black cloud.

This is a pair of discerning eyes he developed after practicing the family's inherited "Shaking Dragon Scripture," called "All Things Connected by Qi," which allows him to see the flow of "evil energy" that ordinary people cannot see.

"Ghost! There's a ghost!" The man was so frightened that he wet himself. He didn't even bother to drive away Yan Sen and his son. He scrambled and crawled towards the depths of the village, shouting incoherently.

"Dirty stuff has entered the village! Dirty stuff has entered the village!"

The remaining villagers were terrified and ran away with him in a flash.

The village entrance instantly returned to silence.

Yan Que chuckled as he looked at his son; that sly, old-timer look was back.

He carefully gathered the broken bowl from the ground into his arms and patted Yan Sen's head: "Son, see? Dad said there would be meat to eat, right? The money for the meat has come to us on its own."

Yan Sen rubbed his empty stomach and rolled his eyes: "Dad, I saw it. That black cloud was quite large. This job is tricky; it'll take at least a roast chicken."

"You brat, you're already haggling with your dad over prices?" Yan Que chuckled and scolded, then looked towards the village, his eyes becoming deep and thoughtful.

Not long after, a series of hurried footsteps approached. An elderly man with gray hair, leaning on a cane, hurried over, surrounded by a group of villagers.

The old man was the village chief, and behind him followed a gaudy old woman holding a peach wood sword; she was the village's revered sorceress, Granny Wang.

Granny Wang had triangular eyes with more white than black. She glanced contemptuously at the ragged Yan Sen and his son, snorting as if she were looking at two bugs.

"Village chief, it's them! The village has been in turmoil ever since they arrived!" The man who had just been scared away pointed at Yan Sen and his son and complained.

The village chief waved his hand anxiously and looked at Granny Wang: "Granny Wang, please take a look and tell me what's going on?"

Wang the fortune teller ignored the village chief and instead walked around the stone tablet at the village entrance and the old locust tree, muttering incantations.

Night fell completely at that moment.

Suddenly, the century-old locust tree at the village entrance, without a breath of wind, began to shake violently, making a strange "rustling" sound.

Immediately afterwards, a shrill roar came from the shadow of the locust tree. The sound was sharp and piercing, yet also had a muffled quality, and it sounded exactly like the pitiful howl of a dog.

The villagers were so frightened that they all backed away, and Granny Wang's face turned pale.

Only Yan Sen licked his chapped lips, his eyes sparkling. He lowered his voice and said to Yan Que, "Father, this voice is wrong. It's not a spirit. It's an Earthly Fiend."

He paused, then a smile of excitement appeared on his little face.

"Dad, this game... is interesting."