Dai Lao Ye stood in front of the open coffin, staring at the zombified remains of his ancestor. His face darkened, brows furrowing in concern. Even Dai Jie Ying, usually so composed, couldn’t hide her discomfort as she glanced at the corpse. She dared not look again, her face tight with fear.
Curious, I turned to Su Qing and asked if the elderly Taoist priest in the robe was her master, and who the blind man was. Su Qing nodded, confirming that the Taoist was indeed her master. The blind man, named Chen Bing, was a renowned fortune teller with great knowledge of Feng Shui. According to Su Qing, there were rumors that Chen Bing had once been cursed by the heavens for revealing too many secrets. Others claimed he had been blinded after being poisoned by a jealous husband, but either way, his skills were undeniable.
Su Qing motioned for me to be quiet, worried that her master might hear and reprimand her. It made me wonder—had she been lying about practicing under him every weekend?
Just then, the Taoist master began walking around the coffin, murmuring softly. He reassured the Dai family that the situation, though troubling, was manageable. He explained that zombies came in six stages. The first was the White Zombie, slow-moving and weak, easily vanquished. These zombies were terrified of sunlight, fire, water, and even animals like chickens and dogs. The second was the Black Zombie, which was what lay in the Dai family’s tomb.
The Black Zombie, though still sluggish and weakened by the same fears, was much more dangerous. It could avoid direct confrontation, feeding on human blood during sleep, but it wasn’t overly aggressive. “Don’t worry, this one is manageable,” the Taoist reassured, causing the others to relax—except Dai Lao Ye, whose anxiety only seemed to deepen.
Dai Lao Ye pressed on, asking the Taoist master why such a good dragon vein had been turned into a burial ground for zombies. The experts he'd consulted said the dragon vein had been cursed with a deadly formation, one that no known technique could break.
Chen Bing, holding his cane, tapped it on the ground and then began sniffing the air, his nose twitching. It seemed strange for a blind man to be sniffing the air like that—could he really sense something? After a moment, he spoke. “Indeed, there is a formation here—a truly malevolent one, the Seven Killing Formation.”
The Seven Killing Formation was a dangerous and cursed Feng Shui arrangement that would destroy any good land, turning it into a cursed place that caused misfortune for those connected to it. It affected luck, health, wealth, and even life itself. The formation had seven types of “killing” effects:
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Killing Luck (煞运): Bad luck, with misfortunes and a streak of failures.
Killing Power (煞势): Loss of influence, leading to a fall from power.
Killing Life (煞命): Accidents, illnesses, and early death.
Killing Corpse (煞尸): The dead would rise, their bodies turning into zombies.
Killing Wealth (煞财): Financial losses, bankruptcies, and failed businesses.
Killing Descendants (煞后): Destruction of the family line, causing the loss of heirs.
Killing Body (煞身): Chronic illness, continuous suffering from ailments.
Chen Bing went on to explain how the Dai family had suffered from all of these “killings” since the formation had been activated. The eerie smell at the restaurant, the mysterious noises at the hotel, and the crumbling of their once-thriving business empire—everything pointed to the malevolent influence of the Seven Killing Formation. Dai Lao Ye was desperate, recognizing that everything he had worked for was collapsing.
Dai Lao Ye urgently asked how this formation had been laid and whether there was any hope of breaking it. Chen Bing, still sniffing the air, spoke gravely. “This is a true dragon vein, rich in Feng Shui. It’s no wonder the Dai family reached such heights. The mountain is shaped like a dragon, winding and coiled, storing up all the potential wealth and power. The dragon head, if seen from above, symbolizes prosperity—your ancestors would have been blessed for generations. But something went terribly wrong. The formation was laid to sever the dragon's head. And with it, the dragon is doomed.”
He pointed to the peak of the mountain where the dragon’s head was, barely visible in the dark. There, Chen Bing revealed tiny cracks running through the rocky outcrop, indicating that the dragon’s neck had been severed. “The head is dead,” he murmured, “and once the dragon dies, so does its power.”
Chen Bing continued to describe the formation’s effects in greater detail. At the foot of the mountain, the river that ran normally during the day reversed course every night. This, he explained, was a sign of a cursed water flow, known as the “reverse bow flow” (反弓流), which caused wealth to flow away, no matter how much was earned.
Then, he had us examine the trees planted atop the graves. Normally, the trees planted near tombs had to follow specific rules. It was bad luck to plant certain types of trees—like mulberry, willow, and poplar—because of their associations with death. Similarly, certain trees like the tung, locust, and camphor were also forbidden, as their roots could corrupt the tomb and turn the dead into something far worse.
Yet, all the tombs here had been planted with those very trees—nine of them in total. More troubling, the trees were unusually healthy and thriving, despite their supposed curse. Chen Bing asked, “Do you understand? Nine trees, an odd number, all with roots that have mysteriously grown unchecked. The spirits within these graves have been fed, their transformation hastened.”
The more I learned, the clearer it became: this place was far more dangerous than I had imagined. The Dai family wasn’t just dealing with a spiritual curse—it was a full-on disaster waiting to happen.