Zhang Chen was walking back from Wang Wu's home when, halfway there, he suddenly saw the Village Chief escorting a middle-aged man wearing a yellow turban into the village from outside. The man was thin and gaunt, wrapped in a grayish robe that was neither quite gray nor not gray. Though the robe was plain and old, it bore no patches.
The yellow turban on the man's head was especially eye-catching, drawing people's gazes to it without their realizing.
Golden light flickered in Zhang Chen's eyes. He saw no flow of energy around the man's body, so he was clearly an ordinary person.
Zhang Chen saw the man and the Village Chief, and the Village Chief saw Zhang Chen as well. From afar, he waved to Zhang Chen.
Zhang Chen walked over. Before he could get close, the Village Chief opened his mouth. "I invited an honored guest today. Do you have any game over there?"
Without changing expression, Zhang Chen said, "Who can still set traps in the mountains these days? They would not even be enough for those villagers to steal away. I'm surviving on grass roots and tree bark now."
The Village Chief spat. "This damn world—how could a drought come just because it wanted to?"
Then he said to Zhang Chen, "But don't be afraid, kid. Our village is blessed. I spent a great sum to invite the most renowned feng shui master in the city, Master Chen. Once Master Chen finds a water vein in our village and I dig a well, you won't have to go thirsty anymore!"
Zhang Chen was startled. A feng shui master? This world has feng shui too?
"You'd better catch more game and sell it for more money, kid, lest you have no money to buy water from me