As soon as the words left his mouth, a stunned silence fell over the group.
Uncle Huzi's expression hardened.
"Our Young Master offered to help your family out of pure goodwill," he stated coldly, "and this is how you respond? Come along, Young Master, let's go."
My own face mirrored Uncle Huzi's, and I prepared to leave with him.
Suddenly, Zhang Yunyao rushed in front of us, her voice frantic.
"Mr. Wu, please don't be offended," she pleaded. "My brother has always been rash and hot-tempered. Please don't take his words to heart."
Zhang Yucheng, also enraged, marched over and slapped Zhang Yunliang.
The force of the blow sent him reeling, nearly knocking him to the ground.
"You idiot!" he roared. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to convince Mr. Wu to come here? Not only do you refuse to assist, you have to create a scene! I'll teach you a lesson…"
Zhang Yucheng raised his hand again, but the nearby workers intervened, preventing another blow.
Zhang Yunliang, however, refused to back down.
"Father, he's just another con artist trying to swindle our family, just like all the others before. At least the previous ones had the decency to look the part! He's practically a child—clearly a fraud!"
"How dare you say that!" Zhang Yucheng thundered, grabbing a shovel from the ground and charging towards Zhang Yunliang.
Sensing danger, Zhang Yunliang turned and fled, his father hot on his heels.
To my astonishment, Zhang Yucheng stumbled and collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest and struggling for breath.
He looked as if he might faint.
Zhang Yunyao rushed to his side, pulling a vial from her pocket and quickly administering some medicine.
After a few tense moments, Zhang Yucheng's breathing steadied and some color returned to his face.
Uncle Hu and I exchanged uncomfortable glances.
We hadn't even begun our work and were already embroiled in family drama, face to face with the obstinate Zhang Yunliang.
What was more, we had arrived with them, making it impossible to simply walk away.
This remote mountain area saw little traffic, so flagging down a ride was out of the question.
As his strength returned, Zhang Yucheng, supported by Zhang Yunyao, rose unsteadily to his feet.
He shuffled over to us, apologizing profusely.
"Mr. Wu, I must apologize," he said, his voice raspy. "My impulsive son infuriated me, causing my blood pressure to skyrocket. He lacks discipline and possesses a rather extreme personality.
He's unaware of your true identity, and we've been targeted by several charlatans posing as feng shui masters. That's why he reacted so poorly.
Please forgive his ignorance – don't take it personally."
"Mr. Wu," Zhang Yunyao added, her voice soft, "please don't be angry. My brother has been plagued by nightmares recently, and he's truly tormented. He didn't…" her voice trailed off.
Maintaining a calm facade, I finally spoke.
"Very well," I conceded. "Please, take us to your ancestral grave."
The truth was, the money was the deciding factor in my decision to stay.
The deposit had already been paid, and I desperately needed it.
Had I possessed my usual disposition, I would have left without a second thought.
Both father and daughter expressed their gratitude before leading me towards the Zhang family's ancestral burial grounds.
Upon entering the area, my brows instinctively furrowed.
The burial site was enclosed by numerous recently planted pines and cypresses.
However, every single tree was dead, their branches bare, needles turned brittle and brown.
As if sensing my observation, Zhang Yucheng explained, "Mr. Wu, we planted these pines and cypresses just yesterday.
They were perfectly healthy when we arrived. But by the following day, they had all withered and died.
Even if they were destined to perish, it should have taken time. This happened in a single night. There must be something amiss with the ancestral grave itself."
I nodded silently, choosing to withhold comment for the moment.
Instead, I instructed Uncle Huzi to accompany me to a nearby hillock.
This vantage point, the highest in the area, would afford us a panoramic view of the entire feng shui layout of the Zhang family's ancestral grave.
From this elevated position, we surveyed the surroundings.
Verdant mountains stretched out before us, forming a distinct dragon and tiger formation.
A river snaked its way gently southwest of the ancestral grave.
The overall feng shui direction was undeniably favorable.
Wind and qi converged upon the area, nestled harmoniously between mountains and water.
Then, as I examined the landscape more closely, another detail snagged my attention.
Not far from the Zhang family's burial site lay a slope remarkably shaped like a reclining dragon, its head raised majestically, poised for flight.
And in the southeast direction, another peak rose sharply, resembling a charging tiger with jaws agape, ready to pounce.
Together, these formations created a rare and potent configuration known as the Dragon and Tiger Killing Formation.
The Zhang family's ancestral grave lay directly within the path of these mythical beasts, as if they were locked in a celestial battle for dominance over this very spot.
While not the most exceptional geomantic location, it was still considered highly auspicious compared to ordinary sites.
Clearly, the old Daoist who had chosen this location for the Zhang ancestors had possessed genuine knowledge.
The feng shui itself appeared sound.
This led me to believe that another factor was responsible for the recent misfortunes plaguing the Zhang family's ancestral grave.
Returning to the burial site, I slowly circled the area, carefully examining each stone and marker.
Zhang Yucheng approached, apprehension filling his voice.
"Mr. Wu," he ventured, "have you been able to determine the root of the problem?"
"Not yet," I replied, my focus unwavering.
Zhang Yucheng fell silent, trailing behind as I continued my inspection.
The opulence of the Zhang family was evident even in death.
Their ancestors rested beneath elaborately carved stone tablets crafted from the finest materials, their names etched for eternity.
The ancestral grounds held more than a dozen such markers, many indicating joint tombs.
Zhang Yunyao's grandfather was also interred among the family here.
After a time, I found myself drawn to the northwest corner of the graveyard, near an unassuming mound.
I stopped, my gaze fixed on the earth.
With deliberate steps, I stomped my foot three times.
"Have someone dig here," I instructed Zhang Yucheng, "One meter deep."
Without hesitation, Zhang Yucheng summoned two workers who quickly set about their task.
An unsettling sight awaited them.
As they excavated the earth, a dark, viscous liquid began to seep from the disturbed ground.
It wasn't long before the surrounding soil was stained crimson.
Fear flickered across the workers' faces, their movements becoming hesitant.
Encountering blood seeping from a grave for no apparent reason was unsettling, to say the least.
It hinted at something sinister, something best left undisturbed.
As the workers hesitated, Zhang Yucheng, ever resourceful, intervened.
"More money!" he barked.
The promise of increased pay had a predictable effect.
Forgetting their apprehension, they resumed their digging with renewed fervor.
They didn't have to dig much further.
At a depth of approximately one and a half meters, their shovels struck upon something solid.
Hauling the object from the earth, they revealed a wooden box, perfectly square and meticulously crafted.
It was bound with a black cloth, which the workers removed with trembling hands.
Intricate, unfamiliar symbols densely covered every inch of the wooden box.
I fixed my gaze on the unsettling artifact.
"Bring it here," I commanded.
Once again, Zhang Yucheng resorted to his most reliable tool.
"More money! Bring it here."
Although clearly unnerved, the lure of wealth compelled the workers to obey.
Gingerly, they lifted the box and carried it towards us, their faces pale and their eyes darting around nervously.