My name is Song Qingyun, born in a remote village in the north.
My father was a master of the Xuanmen, renowned throughout the county and even the provincial capital. People from all over would seek him out for help, with queues sometimes stretching from our doorstep to the reservoir two li away at their peak.
But when I was eight years old, my father met with a catastrophic disaster.
That day, after he went out for business, he was carried back on a simple wooden frame by four masked men in black tight-fitting clothes.
My father's eyes were tightly shut, his face like golden paper, and the blood flowing from his mouth stained his front collar.
His limbs were broken at every joint, his right chest was caved in significantly, and his entire left eye had been gouged out, leaving a dark, blood-splattered deep socket.
My mother fainted on the spot, while I could only cry loudly, begging my father to wake up quickly and stop scaring me and my mother.
The four men in black left after dropping him off, but a man with a folding fan and a sharp-mouthed, simian face who followed behind stayed. He shouted, "He's like this, what's the use of crying? Hurry up and tidy him up, carry him to the small room, and let him rest and recuperate."
"Heh, ten years, not short, but not long either!"
This sharp-mouthed man was named Zhang Danian, and he later became my master.
According to my master, he was my father's close friend, and he happened to pass by when my father was in trouble, so he rescued him.
But my master refused to say what my father experienced that day, or what formidable enemies or opponents he encountered. He said that after ten years, everything would naturally come to light.
My master was tight-lipped, and the clues to my father's predicament were lost. Because the day after my father fell into a coma from his severe injuries, my mother, unfaithfully, abandoned my father and me and fled far away.
I had no choice but to follow my master, who had moved into our home, to learn the Xuanmen arts, to support myself, and to earn money to take care of my still comatose father.
My master was a man of great skill. In his eyes, my father's Xuan術 was not even worthy of carrying his shoes.
But he only taught me one skill – Yin Gua.
Yin Gua, as it's called, only divines Yin destinies, Yin appearances, and Yin people; it never involves living individuals.
Each time he asked me to perform Yin Gua, my master would present a birth chart or a facial reading of a deceased person, and I would divine the influence of future destinies based on it.
If my calculations pleased my master, he would reward me with a hundred or so small coins. If they didn't, he would grab a bamboo strip and whip my palms, regardless of my heart-wrenching cries, until he was tired and had had enough.
I both feared and hated this cheap master, yet I couldn't leave him.
Because my family owned no land, and besides Yin Gua, I knew no other skill to survive, I could only shed tears in secret and grit my teeth to endure.
The price of miscalculating Yin Gua was too high, so I devoted myself to studying Yin Gua day and night, just to avoid a beating.
In the following years, I successively comprehended the "Yin Jing," "Guai Sui Feng Shui," "Ming Xiang," and "Zang Lun," and my Yin Gua divinations became increasingly accurate, and the number of beatings decreased.
After the age of ten, I never made a mistake in my Yin Gua divinations again.
And when I turned eighteen, I finally comprehended the "Wen Wang Yin Shen Gua," thereby receiving my master's full inheritance in the art of Yin Gua.
On this day, my master suddenly brought a stranger home. The man was burly and robust, with a thick gold chain around his neck, exuding a rough aura.
My master pointed to the man and said, "Qingyun, starting today, you will accompany Sun Chuang to the south. There are several big business opportunities waiting for you there. Once you earn a million, come back quickly. Curing your father's illness will be within reach."
"Haven't you always wanted to know the truth about your father's tragic case back then?"
"When he wakes up, let him tell you himself."
Sun Chuang was a distant cousin of my master, considered family. The big business opportunities in the south were not simple, and with Sun Chuang there, he could protect me.
I was very curious: what kind of big business was it? How could a few deals earn a million? Was making money that easy?
My master was not only skilled but also well-connected.
Over the years, I never saw him go out to earn money, yet his wealth flowed in continuously.
My master's greatest hobby was counting cash.
He would exchange all the money he earned for crisp banknotes and count them for hours when he had nothing else to do.
A new cellar had been dug under our main house, storing fifty large chests filled with red banknotes.
However, despite my curiosity, my focus ultimately remained on my father.
He could still wake up… and let me know the truth and avenge him… That would be wonderful!
Taking planes, changing trains, riding ox carts…
After much travel, by the evening of the next day, Sun Chuang and I had settled in a sparsely populated village in the south.
Not long after we settled in, we heard someone knocking at the door. Three knocks, a pause, then three more knocks, repeating this cycle three times.
Sun Chuang casually opened the door and saw a masked man peek his head in, glancing towards the inner room, and asked, "Is the Yin Gua master here?"
Seeing Sun Chuang nod, the man beckoned backward. Several men, bent and panting, carried a red wooden coffin from outside.
*Bang—*
It wasn't until the heavy coffin landed at my feet that I came to my senses and demanded, "What do you mean by this? I only divine Yin Gua using the deceased's birth chart or some material clue."
"Why did you bring the entire coffin?"
The coffin was so heavy, and I strongly suspected it contained a corpse, which made me feel somewhat displeased.
We Yin Gua practitioners never meet the principal directly; there must be an intermediary to relay messages. This is the rule of the trade.
I had initially thought that my master arranged for Sun Chuang to accompany me, making him my intermediary. However, the rules were broken from the very first meeting.
The man leading the group was named Wang Jun. His appearance was unremarkable, but a strange smell emanating from him caught my attention.
The smell was like carrying a piece of rotting meat, highly irritating to the nasal mucous membranes.
Wang Jun rolled his eyes and glanced at me sideways, saying, "Brother, what's the meaning of this? You have money but don't want to earn it? I'm telling you, honestly calculate a卦 for the person in the coffin, and this million will be yours."
After speaking, Wang Jun directly opened his mobile account page, where a string of numbers was displayed.
He tapped "1,000,000" on the page, but stopped at the transfer stage, looking at me coldly.
The implication was clear: as long as I agreed to perform the divination for the person in the coffin, this million would be within reach.
I swallowed subconsciously.
I truly hadn't expected to earn money so easily; one divination, and a million would be mine.
No wonder my master was so fond of money; this line of work made earning money feel like snatching it!
Sun Chuang also advised me from the side, "Qingyun, what rules or no rules? This is business arranged by your master, what else do you have to doubt? Do you not trust your master?"
Faced with the temptation of a huge sum of money, and hearing Sun Chuang's words, I immediately made up my mind. I waved my hand and said, "Open the coffin, let me see the principal first."
The red coffin's nails had already been removed before it was brought here.
Now, as the coffin lid was shifted, a creaking sound echoed. The principal in the coffin was soon revealed before me.
*Hiss—*
As I saw the "principal," my eyes widened, and I couldn't help but gasp.
I'm afraid I won't be able to perform Yin Gua for the principal before me—