Feng Shui magic

Li Chengfeng stumbled backward, his eyes locked on the spectral flame hovering before him. "W-what do you want?" he stammered, voice trembling.

Beside him, Liang Daqiang and the workers froze in terror. One man's legs gave out entirely, urine soaking his pants. Another tried to flee but found his limbs numb, forced to squeeze his eyes shut against the nightmare.

Then, from the flickering green orb, a voice echoed—ancient, hollow, yet oddly gentle. "Young Master Li… thank you. You've saved our Ye family. We *will* repay this debt."

The flame pulsed once before diving back into the grave, vanishing as if swallowed by the earth. Relief flooded Li Chengfeng. *That old ghost nearly scared me to death just to say thanks!*

A worker collapsed to his knees, wheezing. "Never… never taking a job like this again! No amount of money's worth this!" Nervous laughter rippled through the group, breaking the tension.

---

By dawn, Li Chengfeng had relocated the cursed acacia to a neutral site. Exhausted, he slumped into the car's backseat, muttering to Ye Mengyao, "Pay those three men extra—20,000 each. They cleared the roots." Before she could reply, he was snoring.

As Liang Daqiang and the crew recounted the night's horrors—ghostly flames obeying Li's commands, roots strangling bones—Ye Mengyao's skepticism warred with their fervent certainty. "He *commanded* them! Like soldiers!" one insisted. "Ain't no way we'd make this up!"

Though shaken, she transferred the promised funds, adding an extra 10,000 for their silence. Her gaze drifted to Li Chengfeng's sleeping form. *If he really cured Father and Aunt… how do I repay him? A million feels cheap. Would he even want… me?*

---

Her phone shattered the silence. An unknown number. She nearly declined—until her father's voice crackled through. "Mengyao? Are you there?"

Tears blurred her vision. "Dad?! You're—you're *talking*?!"

"I woke up seeing again!" Ye Gucheng's voice boomed, alive with wonder. "My lungs, my leg—*healed*! It's… it's a miracle!"

Across town, Ye Wushuang burst into his brother's hospital room, babbling. "I can *see*! I can—" She froze. Ye Gucheng stood by the window, sunlight glinting off eyes no longer clouded.

---

In Beijing, the Ye patriarch, Ye Qingtian—Ye Mengyao's grandfather—jolted awake. His father's ghost had haunted his dreams: *"Remember the Li Grandmaster. Repay him, or our lineage falls."*

Blinking, Ye Qingtian gasped. Sunlight *burned* his retinas—eyesight restored after years of blindness. He staggered to the window, laughing wildly. "It's real! The Li Grandmaster… who *is* he?!"

---

By midday, every ailing Ye descendant found themselves inexplicably cured. Tumors vanished. Blindness reversed. Paralysis dissolved. The family群聊 exploded—joyous reunions, tearful calls.

Yet in shadowed corners,旁系 relatives seethed. Their两年 of scheming—poisoned contracts, staged accidents—crumbled overnight. "How?!" one snarled. "We had them *begging*!"

The Ye dynasty's balance had shifted. And at its center slept an oblivious young man, snoring softly in a car headed for destiny.

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