Three days later, the ferry cut smoothly across Victoria Harbour.
Hong Kong’s famous skyline rose ahead—glass towers glinting in the sun, the Peak draped in soft green mist, and the faint hum of a city that never slept.
But Zhang Jiuxuan leaned on the rail, his lips pressed into a thin line.
The Celestial Master’s Seal hung around his neck under his shirt, pulsing cold and sharp.
“The water here doesn’t flow right,” he said.
“It’s been twisted.
Held back.
Like someone tied a heavy stone around the harbour’s throat.” Lin Weiyao stood beside him, looking out at the passing junks and ferries.
“The Black Cross has held deep roots here for decades.
They paid off officials, bought old temples, and pushed out every honest master who dared speak up.
The whole local feng shui guild answers to them now.” They landed at Central and walked straight to Temple Street.
Even in the busy afternoon crowds, Zhang Jiuxuan stood out in his faded t-shirt and red flip-flops.
He stopped outside a small stall selling beef offal noodles, and the old owner’s face lit up.
“Master Zhang!
You finally came!
I’ve been waiting three years for you!” He quickly filled two bowls, adding extra meat and sambal.
“The Huo family girl—she’s been missing for three days.
Her father begged every master in town, but no one dares go near the mansion on the Peak.” “Huo Yunxi?” Zhang Jiuxuan asked, blowing on the hot noodles.
“The one who refused to sell her family’s ancestral land?” “The very same,” the old man nodded grimly.
“They say the land sits right on the harbour’s main dragon vein.
The guild wants it bad enough to kill for it.” By dusk, they reached the Huo mansion, tucked among the luxury homes high on Victoria Peak.
The gate stood wide open.
No guards patrolled the grounds.
The whole house was wrapped in dead silence, every window covered with thick black cloth.
Zhang Jiuxuan stepped through the gate.
The air felt heavy, as if gravity itself had grown stronger.
Red chalk lines crisscrossed the driveway, and small porcelain dolls with pins through their hearts lay scattered across the lawn.
“Binding curse,” he said.
“Designed to trap the house’s luck and feed it to whoever cast it.” They moved inside.
The main hall was empty—except for Huo Yunxi, tied to a pillar in the center.
She was pale, her eyes closed, a faint black vein crawling up her neck.
Standing around her were five men in silk robes, their badges marked with the same twisted cross.
“Another stray dog from the mainland,” the lead master sneered, stepping forward.
“This is Hong Kong.
Our rules.
Our luck.
Crawl back to your mountains before you get hurt.” Zhang Jiuxuan walked past him straight to Huo Yunxi, checking her pulse.
“You’re tying her life force to the vein.
If the dragon snaps, she dies with it.” “The price of progress,” another man said coldly.
“The Huo family clung to old ways for too long.
It’s time they made way for those who understand the new world.” Zhang Jiuxuan stood up slowly, brushing dust from his shorts.
“The new world doesn’t belong to thieves.
And it certainly doesn’t belong to those who poison their own home.” He snapped his fingers.
The red lines across the floor flared gold and shattered.
The porcelain dolls burst one by one, the pins turning to dust.
The five masters stumbled back, gasping as their own curses rebounded onto their hands.
“Who gave you the right to bind the land?” Zhang Jiuxuan said, his voice low and sharp.
“Who told you that betraying your own blood would keep you safe?” Before they could answer, a shadow fell over the hall.
The floorboards groaned, and a massive shape made of swirling smoke and old coins rose from the ground—an ancient earth spirit, twisted and furious, its roar shaking the walls.
“The vein is angry!” one master screamed.
“We can’t control it anymore!” “You never controlled it,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
“You only poked it until it woke up.” He pulled the seal from his neck, held it high, and spoke gently to the spirit.
“Old friend,” he said.
“They hurt you.
They tied you down.
But I’m here now.
No more chains.
No more pain.” Golden light wrapped around the shadow.
The fury faded, replaced by a soft, rumbling calm.
The spirit bowed low to Zhang Jiuxuan, then dissolved into warm light that sank back into the foundations.
Zhang Jiuxuan cut Huo Yunxi free with a single sweep of his hand.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in confusion.
“The mountain… the water… they stopped screaming,” she whispered.
“For now,” Zhang Jiuxuan said.
“But the men who ordered this aren’t hiding in this house.
They’re waiting at the very top of the Peak.
And tonight, I’m going to pay them a visit.”