Professional Feng Shui, Official Bounties

The goateed Taoist's face stiffened when Qin Geng exposed him with a single sentence. His carefully cultivated air of an expert nearly crumbled, and the Peachwood Sword in his hand trembled.

But he was an old hand at this crooked trade, a Fire General from the Thousand Gate. He had enough composure to recover.

He rolled his eyes and barked, "Infinite Heavenly Venerable! Utter nonsense! I belong to the orthodox Maoshan lineage. I've never heard of any Thousand Gate or whatever else you're talking about!

"Master Lin, this brute is steeped in baleful energy! He has offended the spirits, and now he's slinging vicious accusations at innocent men! If you don't throw him out, there's truly nothing I can do about your son's possession!"

As he spoke, he made a show of gathering up the things on the ritual altar, putting on the air of a man too insulted to continue.

Panic seized Lin Zhengde again. He was just about to try to smooth things over.

Qin Geng let out a cold laugh. It was quiet, but it burrowed into their bones like shards of ice in the dead of winter.

"Orthodox Maoshan?"

Hands behind his back, Qin Geng walked unhurriedly to the altar. He pinched a little of the supposed "black dog's blood" between his fingers, rubbed it, and held it to his nose.

"Chicken blood mixed with cinnabar and a little soot from the bottom of a pot. This is what Maoshan calls black dog's blood?"

He turned away from the Taoist, who was still struggling to keep up the act, and looked at the anxious Lin Zhengde. His tone was as casual as if he were discussing dinner. "Master Lin, you've spent half your life navigating the business world. How did a cheap trick like this pull