The Good-for-Nothing Taoist: Supernatural Urban Survival

My name is Lü Zichuan, a cast-off from the Taoist sect, poor as a church mouse. Others catch ghosts with altars, rituals, and golden light protection; I catch ghosts with glutinous rice, drones, talisman papers—the three-piece set—plus a glib tongue. Others charge at least a hundred thousand; I charge fifty thousand and I'll risk my life, after all, talking money hurts feelings, but not talking money hurts even more. I'm poor, but I'm poor with principles. The day I was kicked out of the Taoist sect, the elder's beard was quivering with anger. The reason was simple: I "borrowed" their resource vault empty, not even sparing the guardian Bagua mirror. I said it was an advance on my future salary, and when I become a great cultivator, I'll repay tenfold or a hundredfold. They didn't believe me and threw me out. No matter. The city is big enough; a wild Taoist who can draw talismans, read feng shui, and catch ghosts won't starve. Until that day, I took a fifty-thousand job—the reservoir behind Lan Gao University, three students drowned in a row, their bodies ice-cold when retrieved, yet not a drop of water in their lungs, their expressions serene as if asleep. I knew this wasn't drowning; someone had drained their yang energy. What's more troublesome, I ran into a mysterious beauty of mixed Chinese-British heritage with a silver-blood constitution, and a genius rich second-generation from the Jade Emperor Temple. — Description from novelcodex.orgFull novel: The Good-for-Nothing Taoist: Supernatural Urban Survival — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠