Feng Shui magic

**Chapter 29: The Ancestral Master's Wrath**

Ye Mengyao pulled up to the hospital with Li Chengfeng still snoring in the backseat. Ye Gucheng, seeing the young man's exhaustion, motioned for silence. As they waited, Ye Mengyao recounted the workers' tales—ghostly flames, roots strangling bones, and Li Chengfeng's eerie command over the supernatural.

Ye Gucheng listened, awe-struck. Once a skeptic, his miraculous recovery had shattered his doubts. "He's our family's savior," he declared. "From now on, treat him as an honored guest. Understood?"

Ye Mengyao nodded, her icy demeanor thawed into admiration—especially after witnessing Li Chengfeng's ruthless *Suoyang Curse* neuter Ye Wuming. Ye Wushuang, however, rolled her eyes. "A charlatan! I'll expose him sooner or later."

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The car door suddenly swung open. Li Chengfeng stumbled out, stretching lazily. Ye Gucheng rushed forward, gratitude spilling over. "Master Li, we owe you everything! Name any reward—"

"Payment suffices," Li Chengfeng cut him off. "This was a transaction. We're done."

As he turned to leave, he paused. "One warning: the feng shui master who cursed your graves won't take this lightly. They'll strike back. Stay vigilant."

Ye Wushuang snorted. "More lies! If some 'master' comes, I'll hire *real* experts from the Mystic Arts Association!"

Ignoring her, Ye Gucheng watched Li Chengfeng's car disappear, unease coiling in his gut.

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Back at Suiyuan Hall, Li Chengfeng froze mid-step. The portrait of his sect's Ancestral Master—usually serene—now glared furiously, lips twisted in disapproval.

"Ancestral Master…?" He hastily lit three sandalwood sticks, but the incense snuffed out instantly. Panicked, he kowtowed. "Have I offended you? I'll mend my ways!"

The portrait's expression softened slightly. Then, a booming voice erupted:

***"Dumbass! You bought FAKE GOLD!"***

Li Chengfeng choked on his tea. The Ancestral Master's painted finger seemed to jab accusingly at the altar's offerings—a gilded incense burner, candlesticks, and fruit tray.

***"Our sect's legacy, entrusted to a fool who can't tell brass from bullion!*** *Pathetic!*"

Mortified, Li Chengfeng bit the "gold" tray. No dent. A knife scratch revealed flaking gilt over cheap copper.

"Eighty thousand… for *this*?!" Rage ignited. He dumped the frauds into a sack. "Time to visit *Shenghai Gold Shop*."

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