Chapter 54: Fang Jun

Chu Tianshu felt a little nervous when boarding the plane.

But once he stepped inside, someone guided him to the general seating area; after finding his seat, his mind gradually calmed.

Flying was pretty dull.

From his seat, he could see the wing ahead; during takeoff, watching the ground grow distant, he felt a faint sense of flight.

After that, there was no further special experience.

There was none of the imagined freedom and speed of high-altitude flight—the cabin felt extremely stable.

It felt much like sitting on a long-distance bus.

Though the view outside was a vast sea of clouds, not the usual ground-level scenery, it only felt more monotonous.

Chu Tianshu relaxed in his seat, hands folded, his right thumb slowly tracing four vertical and five horizontal lines across his left palm.

As the plane neared Macau International Airport, the view outside once again caught his interest.

The plane descended lower, and through the window he saw the murky sea, waves churning white foam.

The long, thick wings seemed barely meters above the water’s surface.

This was likely an illusion caused by lack of reference points—the plane was still at least dozens of meters above the sea.

But this illusion made him feel again that he was flying, gliding over the ocean.

Chu Tianshu watched for a long while until the sea turned into a dull yellow, weathered concrete runway.

After disembarking, he followed the crowd into the terminal, studying the signs closely, afraid he’d get lost.

But Macau International Airport was surprisingly small; after walking only a short while, he saw the glass doors on the other side.

Macau is a collective term for several small islands.

In modern times, these islands were directly connected by bridges and underwent multiple land-reclamation projects.

This international airport was built entirely on reclaimed land.

Chu Tianshu carried his backpack in one hand, stepped outside, opened his phone, found the number Kong Wenju had given him, and dialed.

“Who begs whom? Through autumn and spring, only heaven’s command is heard…”

“Heaven’s fate! Who can reverse destiny?”

A powerful beat of music blared from dozens of meters away.

It was the theme song from the popular drama “In Search of Qin,” still occasionally aired on TV.

This song was even more popular than the show itself, echoing through every street and alley.

Chu Tianshu looked up and saw a bright red convertible parked there.

A handsome young man in sunglasses leaned against the car, holding his phone by a pendant dangling from his fingers.

No tie or bowtie—he wore a wine-red shirt under a white suit, pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead, and walked over slowly.

“Hey! Mr. Chu?”

Chu Tianshu hung up; the phone’s ringtone stopped. “It’s me. You’re Mr. Fang from the Macau Special Capture Unit?”

“Just call me Fang Jun.”

Fang Jun’s attire and movements were slightly frivolous, but he had a handsome face.

Especially after he revealed his eyes, his smile gave him a warm, approachable air.

“Get in the car.”

Fang Jun turned to lead the way.

Chu Tianshu walked toward the car, silently whistling in admiration.

Good car.

Expensive car.

He didn’t follow car markets, but convertibles were surely pricey.

And the paint on this one had an unmistakable texture, radiating wealth.

The mainland’s Public Security vehicles? Forget it—the Special Capture Unit usually drove Wuling Hongos, all about cheap and durable.

Macau’s Special Capture Unit, clearly had a different style.

“This isn’t issued by the unit—I bought it myself. Eighty thousand per car, nothing particularly luxurious.”

Fang Jun slipped into the car and suddenly added those two lines.

Chu Tianshu touched his face in surprise. “My expression was that obvious?”

“Not extremely, but ever since I bought this car, people keep asking about Macau Special Capture Unit benefits.”

Fang Jun laughed. “Honestly, if anyone else in our branch didn’t save money or had no family obligations—”

“After a few years plus bonuses, they could easily afford a car like this.”

Chu Tianshu got in.

The car looked low from outside, but inside it felt surprisingly spacious, with comfortable back and waist support.

“Special Capture Unit work is dangerous. Wouldn’t you mind if you damaged such a nice car?”

“There’s insurance, right?”

Fang Jun replied indifferently, then tapped the horn.

Chu Tianshu pulled out a plastic box from his bag.

The box lay flat; inside, the liquor sloshed, and the silver needle spun.

That night, he’d gone to Kong Wenju’s home and reabsorbed the lingering mental energy residue.

A sorcerer’s residual mental energy, to others, generally counts as “external evil”—it repels other sorcerers’ energies.

But what remained in Kong Wenju’s home wasn’t just “external evil”—it was true malevolent energy, cold and malicious.

The liquor in Chu Tianshu’s box had soaked it all up.

“This is the key clue to catching that thief?”

Fang Jun marveled. “I checked his file—he’s fifty or sixty. What on earth drove him to learn thievery on the mainland?”

“If you want to be a thief, go to Japan—they might even make you an idol.”

Japan has a culture of thieves—not just in film and anime, but in reality too.

Many Japanese cultivators enjoy this line of work; maybe they all watched thief cartoons as kids and absorbed it by osmosis.

But that kind of thief is complex, blending traits of mercenaries, detectives, and bounty hunters.

“Still the mind, cut the water; water cut, mind still…”

Chu Tianshu watched the needle keep spinning, unable to settle, and silently chanted a mantra to strengthen it.

After a while of channeling his mental energy, he sensed the problem and turned to gaze at the city.

“Why is your city’s energy so… so…”

Chu Tianshu softened his words. “Hidden dragons and crouching tigers?”

Fang Jun laughed. “Just say it’s a mess—chaotic, all kinds mixed together.”

It truly was a mess.

Chu Tianshu’s glance revealed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of strange energy fields crammed into the city.

Cultivators wouldn’t casually radiate their mental energy.

These fields were mostly constructed by feng shui layouts combined with multiple talismans and artifacts.

Some fields clearly relied on two or three skyscrapers as pillars.

Those buildings must have been meticulously planned from the start, strictly according to feng shui masters’ demands.

Feng shui layouts alone weren’t unusual.

In Chu Tianshu’s hometown, even if homes ignored feng shui, graves still required yin-yang masters to inspect burial sites.

But those feng shui fields were faint—no grand skyscrapers built for them, no such volume of artifacts.

And certainly not this fierce competition, where every feng shui field was in constant turmoil.

Such a tiny place, packed with so many hidden dragons and phoenixes.

How can my needle find the target amid this chaos?

Chu Tianshu sighed. “Drive me around the city.”

“If we get closer, this needle should still sense the target’s direction.”

Fang Jun gave an OK sign. “I’ll make sure we cover every district—I’m good at that.”

Chu Tianshu sighed again.

Fang Jun said, “Don’t lose heart. Even if your needle only works up close, it’s already a huge help.”

“Otherwise, if we relied purely on manpower, not only would we lack personnel, but many places would refuse us entry outright.”

Chu Tianshu shook his head. “I’m not discouraged by that—I just think people here are incredibly rich.”

“These feng shui fields constantly drain each other. The buildings themselves are large enough to withstand it, but the artifacts inside must be replaced every year or two.”

He looked at the city. “So many people can afford such frequent artifact replacements?”

Fang Jun snorted.

“You should think the other way.”

Fang Jun said, “Sometimes, the artifacts haven’t even reached replacement time—the owners themselves have already changed.”

“It’s not that the original feng shui planners were always rich—it’s that new people always come to take over, chasing more wealth.”

“Feng shui is the interplay between people and land. They believe the previous owners couldn’t sustain such a layout, but their own destiny and ability are strong enough.”

“Some fled, some went bankrupt, some jumped off rooftops.”

“Only a few survivors grew immensely wealthy—like bonfires in the dark, drawing in more moths.”

Chu Tianshu’s expression shifted slightly: “In a place like this, special incidents must be common.”

The Overflow Zone has no rules.

But when spirits from the Spirit Realm cross into reality, there is a certain pattern.

In reality, the more complex the situation, the more frequent the deaths, and the more intense and extreme the emotions, the easier it is for spirits from the Spirit Realm to find an opening and emerge to cause trouble.

Moreover, with the city’s feng shui so chaotic, newly dead souls might begin haunting even before they enter the Spirit Realm, acting like ancient ghosts.

“Special incidents do happen often, but this is the world-famous Eastern gambling city.”

Fang Jun said, “Anyone who’s managed to hold long-term influence here speaks for itself.”

“Even those who came from around the world to struggle for their fortune, if they have any means at all, know to hire bodyguards, consultants—many are even cultivators who’ve developed mental force and make their living in the gambling circles.”

“On their own turf, they usually handle special incidents themselves.”

The sports car wasn’t speeding—it seemed to be circling the city’s outskirts first, gradually moving inward.

Inside the city, skyscrapers towered everywhere, dozens of stories high.

But where the sports car now drove, the surrounding residential buildings were tightly packed.

Though these apartment buildings stood four or five stories tall, they were often joined together in clusters.

Their outer walls were dilapidated, with patches of plaster peeled away, exposing rough cement; on every floor, air conditioner units and balcony security grates hung everywhere.

Compared to the distant skyscrapers, these residential buildings looked like pigeon coops.

“In these residential areas, don’t keep looking up—it feels too suffocating, and you’ll get uneasy.”

Fang Jun warned, “If you look straight ahead, you’ll start to feel the charm here.”

Chu Tianshu smiled but said nothing, glancing left and right.

Along both sides of the street, shops lined the way, people came and went, laughing and chatting loudly—it was lively.

Fang Jun kept his left hand on the steering wheel and suddenly raised one finger with his right.

“Hey! Did you eat on the plane?”

Chu Tianshu shook his head: “The flight was short—I didn’t order a meal.”

“Then you’re right. Wise choice.”

Fang Jun said cheerfully, “Aozhou Airlines claims to serve Michelin-starred meals. I’ve ordered a few times—the chicken’s dry and fishy, the sauce tastes like it was marinated with bulk Orléans seasoning.”

“Without exaggeration, on either side of this slope road, any random shop would serve better food than theirs.”

Fang Jun pulled the car over, took off his sunglasses, and pointed.

“That one—looks the most ordinary. You sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

(End of Chapter)