Yin Yang Diviner

Six months after graduating from university, Qin Yiheng had become the very thing he hated most—living off his parents, wasting his life. Desperate, his parents forced him to become a disciple of his great-uncle, Qin Tianyang. His great-uncle was a feng shui master who had lived most of his life in Liuhe Town on the outskirts of the city, specializing in grave scavenging, house relocation, and exorcising evil spirits. Qin Yiheng had only intended to earn a living, but during his first grave relocation with his great-uncle, he witnessed firsthand the lifelike corpse of his patriarch, buried for fifty years. Ink lines bound the corpse, black dog blood splattered the coffin, and a hundred ghosts roamed the night—that night, standing in the mourning hall, listening to the scratching sounds coming from inside the coffin, he finally understood what his great-uncle meant by those words: "Your fate is different from others. People born in the yin year, yin month, and yin day are born standing between the yin and yang paths." A copper coin pressed down on his fate, a compass pointed the way. What crawled out of the ancestral grave wasn't just a zombie, but also a blood feud spanning three generations. A jade thumb ring for collecting souls, a soul-suppressing jade for raising corpses, a shattered ancient magical artifact, the Soul-Suppressing Seal… Behind each of these items lies the obsession of a dead person. And all these obsessions ultimately point to the same name—the Netherworld Cult. Under the old locust tree in Qingyan Town, a fortune-telling shop opened. Qin Yiheng sat behind the counter, watching each face that pushed open the door. They wrote down characters; he read their destinies. "Qingyan is not fortune, but longing. If someone remembers you, you are that wisp of green smoke."