Was this a funeral?
Waves of cold wind assailed Chen Jiuyang. The Yan Sheng Saber hanging from the eaves remained unresponsive, and the mourning hall was silent, save for the flickering of two large red candles, lending an air of desolation and eeriness.
Before long, a Mercedes-Benz arrived at the entrance of Chen Jiuyang's home. A middle-aged man wearing sunglasses emerged from the car.
The middle-aged man removed his sunglasses, revealing two eyes: one was a dull, pale gray, while the other was a hollow, chilling socket where an eye had been gouged out.
Chen Jiuyang had never met him. Following his father's instructions, he walked up and knelt before the man, grasping his hand. "Thank you for coming to my father's funeral, sir."
"My father instructed that there be no feast and no gifts after his passing."
The middle-aged man flashed a sinister smile, his voice hoarse. "You must be Jiuyang. A child of Yin born to defy fate, truly blessed with great fortune."
"Sir, you know Chen Jiuyang?"
"In our line of work, who doesn't know you? Your father was supposed to have passed eighteen years ago, yet he managed to hold on until today. Everyone admires that."
"It's a pity I'm not skilled enough, or I would have taken you as my disciple. My name is Liu Hanguang; you may call me Old Liu."
"Mr. Liu, you are too kind. My father had instructed that our home is simple, and I hope you will overlook any lack of hospitality." Chen Jiuyang, maintaining proper etiquette, moved a chair for Liu Hanguang to sit.
"Heh heh..." Liu Hanguang's voice was hoarse. His pale eye scanned the surroundings, and he chuckled, "You call this simple? Did your father not teach you anything about Yin-Yang and Feng Shui?"
Chen Jiuyang shook his head. "My father instructed me not to learn until I came of age. I only learned some superficial knowledge about averting misfortune and inviting good fortune."
Liu Hanguang smiled. "Eight child figures welcoming guests. Besides immortals, no魑魅魍魉 (chī mèi wǎng liǎng - demons and monsters) can enter."
"There are many entities standing here, some come to repay kindness, others to seek revenge. They are all blocked outside the door by these eight paper figures."
Cold sweat beaded on Chen Jiuyang's forehead. There were many things standing here? Chen Jiuyang couldn't see them at all!
Liu Hanguang's words startled Chen Jiuyang. Seeing his reaction, he laughed, "My eyes can see things others cannot. I make my living with this eye, so you needn't find it strange."
"Alright, since Divine Calculator Chen isn't holding a feast, and you've paid your respects, I should be going. Otherwise, some of these entities might mistake me for one of you and follow me." Luo Zhu Jiu left with a meaningful remark and drove away in his Mercedes-Benz.
After he left, Chen Jiuyang was once again alone in the house. He looked at the eight paper figures stabilized by the wind, then walked into the hall to burn some spirit money for his father and to refill the lamp oil beneath the coffin.
Although Chen Jiuyang was not well-versed in Feng Shui, he had learned some things over the years. The lamp oil beneath the coffin must not be extinguished, lest something untoward happen.
Not long after Liu Hanguang left, as if by prior arrangement, guests began arriving one after another.
Chen Jiuyang knelt and grasped each person's hand, saying, "Thank you for coming to my father's funeral, sir."
"Young master, please rise. I, Fang Bahua, cannot accept such a gesture from you." The man quickly helped Chen Jiuyang up.
This person called Chen Jiuyang "Young master," which stirred some confusion in Chen Jiuyang's heart. After standing up, he finally got a clear look at the man's appearance.
Fang Bahua was powerfully built, with well-defined muscles, thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a full beard. He was clearly an extraordinary individual. Just being near him, Chen Jiuyang could feel a palpable heat emanating from his strong vital energy.
Before Chen Jiuyang could ask, Fang Bahua stood outside the door and bowed deeply nine times towards his father's coffin. "Old Patriarch, Fang Bahua has come to see you one last time. Do you have any instructions?"
Fang Bahua's words were filled with genuine emotion, tears streaming from his eyes as he expressed profound grief.
As Fang Bahua finished speaking, one of the eight paper figures suddenly ignited without a flame, burning to ashes and forming the character '归' (guī - return)!
Heavens!
This sent a shiver of terror through Chen Jiuyang.
Fang Bahua, however, laughed through his tears. "Thank you, Old Patriarch. From this moment on, my life belongs to the Young Master. I will never fail you."
With that, Fang Bahua knelt before Chen Jiuyang and kowtowed nine times, his forehead bleeding from the impact. "Young Master, I return to your side today and will follow you from now on."
It was clear this man had been arranged by his father to assist him.
After inquiring about Fang Bahua's birth details, Chen Jiuyang discovered he possessed the rare "Po Jun" (破军 - Warrior Star) destiny.
This man was naturally suited for battlefield combat. Coupled with Liu Hanguang's parting words, Chen Jiuyang realized his future path would undoubtedly be tumultuous, otherwise, why would his father arrange for such a person to be by his side?
Fang Bahua took the place of the paper figure that had burned to ashes at the doorway. Chen Jiuyang continued to wait in the mourning hall. For every guest who arrived, Chen Jiuyang would step forward, kneel, and grasp their hand to express his thanks.
Chen Jiuyang's home was clearly in a rural village. His father had passed away not long ago, and Chen Jiuyang had not notified anyone. Yet, guests arrived one after another, including many influential figures.
Chen Jiuyang, studying in the city, knew that those who drove Mercedes-Benz, sat in Rolls-Royces, and wore fine jade were people of extraordinary status.
How could these prominent figures have any connection with his father? This left Chen Jiuyang utterly bewildered.
It wasn't until midnight that Huang Dahu, a limping villager, arrived.
Chen Jiuyang still knelt to greet him. To his surprise, Huang Dahu stood at the doorway and sneered, "Divine Calculator Chen, so this is your day."
Anger immediately surged within Chen Jiuyang. "Huang Dahu, my father is gone. How can you speak like this?"
"You little brat." Huang Dahu pointed to his crippled leg. "This leg of mine was ruined by your father back then. Otherwise, do you think I would have lived in Qingzhu Village my whole life?"
"Let me tell you, it's already considerate of me not to have overturned your father's mourning hall today. But this matter is far from over."
"I am a Taoist priest, and your father was a fortune teller. Now that he's dead, someone needs to perform rituals for him, to stabilize his soul."
"I will perform a ritual for him today. I won't charge much, just eight hundred and eighty thousand. This price is very fair and reasonable. You little brat, hurry up and get the money."
He called him "old thing" and "little brat," and demanded eighty-eighty thousand for a ritual. This was clearly an attempt to bully him.
"Huang Dahu, you don't need to trouble yourself. My father had made all arrangements before he passed. No rituals are needed," Chen Jiuyang said coldly.
"What do you know, you little beast? If I say I need eighty-eighty thousand for a ritual, you have to give it. If you don't, believe it or not, I'll kill you." As he spoke, Huang Dahu jabbed his cane into Chen Jiuyang's stomach, causing his internal organs to churn and him to writhe in agony.