I consulted a feng shui master in Hong Kong.

After nightfall, everyone at the He residence dispersed.

The well in the backyard has been reopened by half a foot, and the stove has been moved back to its original position as Chen Qinghe had instructed.

The water pipe that ran along the east wall next to the old man's bed was moved to the outside overnight.

With the two tall windows of the warehouse opened, the dampness that had been suffocating for so long finally escaped a little, and even the wind in the yard was no longer as sticky and cold as before.

Before leaving, He Wenchang personally handed over all the miscellaneous items except for the broken wooden plaque to Chen Qinghe.

Three copper coins, two broken red ropes, a layer of blackened old cloth, and a wooden plaque carved with half a scale pattern.

Individually, none of these things are worth anything.

But when they're put together, they're no longer ordinary things.

When I returned to Fu'an Lane, the alley was already quiet, with only a dim kerosene lamp still lit at the sweet soup stall at the street corner.

Upon seeing Chen Qinghe return, he warmly greeted him as "Master Chen."

Chen Qinghe's fame has grown considerably during this period.

Humans are like that; they always have a sense of awe towards things that are unknown and cannot be explained by science.

Who wouldn't respect someone like Chen Qinghe who anticipates the enemy's every move?

Especially with Hong Kong's economic boom in recent years, many people have risen and fallen out of thin air.

They are the most superstitious people.

Perhaps this is why there is room for some unorthodox feng shui practitioners to survive.

……

……

Huang Shouzhou had been tending the shop all day and was so sleepy that his eyelids were drooping. When he saw Chen Qinghe return, he forced himself to ask a couple of questions about the He family. Hearing that "the situation can be resolved and the people won't die for the time being," he was relieved and muttered, "That's good, that's good." He went back to his side room and fell asleep immediately.

Chen Qinghe didn't reply, but simply carried the cloth bag into the inner room.

He wasn't sleepy yet; he still needed to sort through and think about the things he'd brought back from the He family.

As soon as the lights came on, the room fell silent.

On the table lay an old score of the Three Mysteries, and next to it was a sketch of an old dye house.

Yellow paper, cinnabar, compass, and wooden ruler were all still placed in their original positions from the daytime.

A night breeze slipped in through the crack in the door, causing the lamplight to flicker slightly.

Chen Qinghe laid out those items one by one.

The copper coin was placed on the left, the broken rope on the right, the old cloth was unfolded and flattened, and finally the wooden sign was placed under the lamp.

The wooden sign was small, about the length of a palm, with rough edges, as if it had been temporarily shaved off from a whole piece of wood.

It seems that there were words written on the front, but they were later scraped off, leaving only a few very shallow knife marks; the scale pattern on the back is cleverly hidden, and it is almost unrecognizable if you don't turn it over to look at it.

Chen Qinghe slowly ran his fingertips over the surface of the wooden sign.

The wood was dry, but it wasn't old wood; it had been cut in recent years. The surface of the plaque showed signs of moisture, indicating that it had likely been used elsewhere before being buried in the storeroom. Most importantly, the scale pattern wasn't just casually carved; it was painstakingly drawn with an extremely fine knife, the strokes short yet sharp, as if someone had repeatedly carved it many times, making it a habit.

He flipped to the last few pages of the old score and found the remaining mark left by Li Zhengfeng.

Under the lamp, comparing them side by side, they looked about 80% alike.

It's not 80% similar, but it's the same approach.

Chen Qinghe's eyes darkened slightly.

Uncle-Master was not mistaken.

The shady feng shui practitioners in this city aren't just a bunch of swindlers who temporarily banded together; they actually have rules, signs, and connections.

Yongchang Construction was merely the one who moved the house, while Jinfulou was the place that acted as a go-between, entertained guests, and orchestrated the scheme. Further down the chain, there were brokers, managers, foremen, and accountants, all separated into layers. It was hard to tell whether they were accomplices or simply kept in the dark.

Even if outsiders notice something is wrong, they can only scratch the surface at most.

If you try to feel your way in, the thread will break immediately.

There's simply no way to start investigating.

He recalled a line from Li Zhengfeng's old score.

"A game is not played by a single player, and people are not all the same."

At the time, I just thought my uncle was recording his observations. But looking at it now, those eight characters are clearly a reminder to those who come after.

It wasn't just one person.

It's not a line either.

If someone only focuses on a certain foreman, a certain shopkeeper, or a certain housekeeper, they will most likely end up with nothing.

Chen Qinghe turned the wooden sign over and looked at the knife marks that had been scraped off the front.

There are words.

It was just vandalized.

He remained silent for a moment, then got up and fetched a bowl of water. He also picked up some incense ash from beside the incense table, mixed it into a very thin layer of ash paste, and gently smeared it on the front of the wooden plaque with his fingertips before slowly wiping it off with a cloth.

Once the ash is applied, the old engravings on the cards, which were previously difficult to see, immediately begin to show some outline.

It's not a complete character; only half of it remains.

"...Ku".

Further down, there's a stroke that resembles the beginning of the character "东" (Dong).

Chen Qinghe paused for a moment.

库。

East.

This sign is most likely not a personal keepsake, but rather a "location marker" for a certain organization.

It was placed under the He family's warehouse not for aesthetic purposes, nor simply to suppress the enemy's inventory.

It tells the person who makes the move where to place it and what area to target.

The He family's left-side storeroom is located on the east side.

Therefore, the inscription on the plaque reads "Dongku".

What does this tell us?

This suggests that there may be more than one such scheme involving the Ho family.

Some people specialize in housekeeping, some specialize in suppressing wealth, some specialize in cutting off financial gains, and some specialize in using the elderly, the sick, backyards, and waterways to hasten death.

The wooden signs were markings to help their people recognize locations, techniques, and which route to take.

Thinking of this, the chill in Chen Qinghe's heart slowly subsided.

What he fears most is not that his opponent is strong.

The opponent has a methodical approach.

The fact that it has a structured approach indicates that it's not a spur-of-the-moment thing, but rather something accumulated over many years.

In other words, Li Zhengfeng's death was most likely not a coincidence of stumbling upon some kind of trap.

Rather, he had already grasped the basics of this method.

Chen Qinghe sat down again, picked up a pen, and wrote down a few names on the paper.

Yongchang Construction.

Jinfulou.

Manager Zhou.

Liang Shikun.

He Family East Warehouse.

Scale-patterned wooden plaque.

After the rows and columns were laid out, he stared at the paper for a long time.

These dots are still scattered, but even though they are scattered, you can already see some outlines.

Yongchang was in charge of moving into the house.

Jin Fulou was responsible for connecting people, arranging banquets, and creating events for those who couldn't make it public.

The shopkeeper, broker, and middleman are responsible for delivering "houses that need repairs," "houses that need feng shui consultations," and "land that is in a hurry to be sold" to them.

As for the topmost layer—it's the phrase in the old score: "There is another person holding the seal behind it."

Wooden plaques, scale patterns, and a layout with different routes.

The person holding the seal is most likely the one in charge of this set of rules and regulations.

He then remembered the tattered piece of paper hidden in the back cover of the old score.

"The Mysterious Scale Society..."

It was just a name back then, but now it seems to be slowly emerging from the fog.

Xuanlin Society.

The name isn't particularly famous, but the less famous the name, the more it suggests a clandestine, clandestine operation.

They're not some charlatan troupe swindling people in the underworld, but rather a group that makes a living from this kind of unseen and inexplicable business.

They don't put up signs or compete for fame.

They set up schemes, take money, borrow luck, and then cut off someone's life force; they devour people without spitting out the bones.

Chen Qinghe looked down at the wooden plaque and suddenly remembered why his uncle had to hide the Three Mysteries Manual separately before he died, and why he didn't dare to leave all the things in the temple in the open.

It's not that I'm afraid of my enemies coming after me.

He already knew that the other party was not a single person or a group of swindlers, but a network.

Once a person knows the net is there, but doesn't yet have the ability to tear it apart, the best thing to do is not to rush in, but to leave a trail for those who come after.

His uncle left his roots in this old score.

And now, he has finally truly caught it.

A stray cat jumped over the courtyard wall outside, making a soft thud on the roof tiles.

Chen Qinghe looked up at the night sky, his expression still calm, but his eyes had deepened.

He now has three things to deal with.

First, the Sanxuan Temple must be erected as soon as possible.

Without a place, without manpower, without its own roots, even if this line of inquiry uncovers a great deal, it's just a quick look for someone else, and it'll be cut off in the blink of an eye. The old dyehouse must be set up as soon as possible; the front hall, the back courtyard, the quiet room, the well—nothing can be delayed.

Secondly, the Ho family's case cannot simply be about "breaking the deadlock and saving lives".

Who's behind Manager Zhou? Is Liang Shikun still alive? Who's really in charge of Yongchang Construction now? We need to find out all these things by investigating the He family. We can't alert them, but we can't let this opportunity slip by either.

Third, and most importantly, he cannot follow the path Li Zhengfeng took.

At that time, my uncle was all alone, and his temple had been defeated. The deeper he investigated, the more it seemed like he was plunging into darkness.

But he's different.

He now has the old dyehouse, the Sanxuan Temple brand, the Huo family as a legitimate connection, and some contact with the police station.

Once this sign is erected, many things that could only be done by one person in the past can gradually be done by a group of people.

Checking a network doesn't require a single breath.

It relies on roots, momentum, and time.

Thinking of this, Chen Qinghe suddenly reached out and pressed the wooden plaque on the table onto the sketch of the old dyehouse.

The scale-patterned wooden plaque was placed right in the center of the new design sketch, looking rather jarring.

But he didn't move.

Because he suddenly understood very clearly.

The reconstruction of the Sanxuan Temple was not merely for the sake of incense offerings, nor simply for a place to live, nor just for establishing a foothold in Hong Kong in the future.

It also has to be a scabbard.

First, hide the knife inside, let it rest, and then sharpen it.

Only when you actually touch the "seal holder" can you pull out this knife.

The light flickered again.

Chen Qinghe picked up his pen and wrote two more words on the corner of the paper.

"Mysterious Scales".

After finishing writing, he paused for a moment and then added a sentence next to it.

"First cut off his hand, then find his head."

This is not just empty talk.

It's just a matter of deciding on the path first.

If those above can't reach us now, then we'll cut off those below first.

Foreman, manager, broker, restaurant owner—whoever can make a move, makes the first move.

Once these hands are severed one by one, the people in charge will naturally reveal themselves.

After writing that sentence, he folded the paper and tucked it into the last page of the old score.

Then, he picked up the wooden plaque again and looked at it. In the end, instead of putting it back in the cloth bag, he pressed it directly under the incense table.

The wooden plaque was placed on the table, as if something else had been pressed in as well.

It was already very late at night.

A soft snore could be heard coming from Huang Shouzhou's side, and the commotion at the entrance of Fu'an Lane had long since subsided.

In the entire small temple, only the lamplight and Chen Qinghe remained.

He didn't go to sleep immediately, but got up and walked to the door, glancing at the mottled old plaque of "Sanxuan Temple" outside.

The plaque is still old, the courtyard is still small, and the walls are still peeling.

But he knew in his heart that this place was no longer the same as before.

Previously, the Sanxuan Temple was merely a place where he stayed.

Starting tonight, it has an additional meaning.

This is the torch left behind by my martial uncle.

That was also the first fire he intended to use to burn the net.

He stood there for a moment, then turned and went back into the house. Before turning off the light, he glanced down at the sketch of the He residence on the table one last time.

He has to go to the He family again tomorrow night.

Whether the old man has calmed down, whether the sound of water has stopped, whether Manager Zhou will give himself away, and whether there are any backup plans after the wooden sign in the warehouse has been removed—all these things need to be observed.

More importantly, now that the He family's connection has been linked to the Xuanlin Society, he can't treat it as just an ordinary business deal.

This time, he wanted to get the money.

We also need to gather clues.

The lights went out with a "whoosh," and the room fell completely dark.

In the darkness, Chen Qinghe's voice was very low, as if he were talking to himself.

"Uncle-Master, I saw the path you didn't finish back then."