Chapter 11 The Lord of Death's Trap

Ye Tianci sat down with a calm expression, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “To receive a guest without offering tea—is this truly the way to treat a guest?”

Liang Xianrong gave a snort and waved his hand.

Only then did a servant bring in two cups of tea, placing them before Ye Tianci and Lin Qingqian.

Lin Qingqian’s mind was in turmoil; she had no thought to sit and drink tea and stood anxiously at Ye Tianci’s side.

In contrast, Ye Tianci sat at ease in his chair, as if he were the one here to negotiate with the Liang family.

He lifted his cup and took a sip.

“The tea leaves are emerald with a hint of yellow, the liquor is clear, the fragrance rich and lingering, the taste mellow with a long finish.”

“Hm… This is Pre-Qingming Dragon Well from Lion Peak.”

“Excellent tea!” he said slowly, setting down the cup.

Liang Xianrong raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect someone so young and unremarkable in appearance to have some knowledge of tea.”

Ye Tianci gave a faint smile. “Since you’ve served me such fine Dragon Well, I’ll say a little more. Master Liang, your health has been poor lately, hasn’t it?”

Liang Xianrong’s hand, which was turning a string of prayer beads, paused slightly.

Liang Wei immediately barked, “What nonsense are you spouting? My father’s perfectly healthy!”

“Cripple, stop making things up! Master Rong is a top fighter on the Yellow Roll—strong and robust as ever!”

“That’s right. Don’t be fooled by his age—at nearly sixty, Master Rong is stronger than me, Gao Hongqiang!”

The Gao brothers chimed in to flatter Liang Xianrong.

Liang Xianrong glanced at Ye Tianci and snorted, “I’ve practiced martial arts since childhood and have some old injuries, but they’re nothing serious.”

“Is that so?” Ye Tianci set down his cup, rose with hands behind his back, and spoke slowly. “Every night at midnight, you have nightmares and wake up with palpitations and anxiety. Medicine and incense are of no use. This has been going on for over a month now.”

“You have persistent, dull pain in three major acupoints. From midnight to eight in the morning, it’s the Wind Market point; from eight to four in the afternoon, the Hundred Meetings point; from four in the afternoon till midnight, the Spirit Gate point—the pain never stops nor changes order.”

“The aching and the nightmares began at the same time, and the pain grows worse each day. By now, you must rely on medicine just to suppress it slightly.”

“Three days ago, you began coughing up blood. Once on the first day, twice yesterday. Today you’ll cough up blood three times. Hm… You’ve done so twice already; before midnight, you’ll do so a third time.”

At Ye Tianci’s first sentence, Liang Xianrong’s hands froze.

At the second, he abruptly stood, astonished.

At the third, he drew a sharp breath, staring at Ye Tianci in disbelief.

By the fourth, his expression had completely changed—shock and terror mixing on his face.

Ye Tianci had gotten every word right.

It was as if Ye Tianci had been standing by his side, witnessing every detail of his month-long torment.

And yet, Liang Xianrong had never met Ye Tianci before.

In fact, apart from his trusted old steward, Feng Hai, not even his children knew about his condition.

How could Ye Tianci know? It was uncanny, beyond reason!

“Young man, what are you rambling about? One minute has passed, four remain. Better think about how you’ll beg for mercy soon!” Liang Wei sneered coldly from the side.

Liang Xianrong shot him a glare, silencing him at once.

Stepping forward, Liang Xianrong cupped his hands to Ye Tianci. “I didn’t expect you to be so gifted, sir. May I ask—what is my illness?”

“It isn’t an illness. Someone has set a feng shui trap for you,” Ye Tianci replied. “A fatal one.”

Liang Wei’s eyes narrowed, and he cursed, “Utter nonsense! My father—”

Before he could finish, Liang Xianrong’s palm struck his face.

The slap was so forceful that Liang Wei spun in place, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Shut that filthy mouth of yours!” Liang Xianrong roared, his gaze fierce.

Clutching his face, Liang Wei trembled, not daring to utter another word.

“Sir, please speak plainly,” Liang Xianrong implored, bowing again.

Ye Tianci pointed toward the Liang family’s main gate. “If I’m not mistaken, your main gate was renovated just over a month ago.”

“Yes, it was. What does that have to do with the feng shui trap you mentioned?” Liang Xianrong asked, clearly surprised.

“Why don’t we go take a look?” Ye Tianci smiled slightly.

“After you, sir,” Liang Xianrong replied, leading Ye Tianci to the courtyard gate, followed by everyone else.

Ye Tianci pointed to the spot where he’d stomped his foot on entering. “Break up the ground here. No need to go deep—a foot will suffice. We’ll see the truth.”

“Feng Hai, break it open!” Liang Xianrong ordered his trusted steward.

Liang Wei hurried forward, trying to stop him. “Father, you can’t! Don’t let this cripple play tricks and ruin our courtyard.”

Feng Hai replied, “It’s just a small patch, Third Young Master. Who says we’re ruining the whole courtyard? Why so nervous?”

“I—I’m not nervous,” Liang Wei stammered.

“Then get out of the way.” Feng Hai shoved him aside, swung a hammer twice to break the ground, and dug with a shovel.

At precisely one foot deep, the shovel struck something hard.

“Master Rong, I’ve found something!”

“Bring it out!”

With a heavy thrust, Feng Hai unearthed a skeleton—not human, but the remains of a small piglet.

About eight inches long, perfectly intact, unbroken even when thrown on the ground.

A sinister sight.

More unnerving, the piglet’s remains exuded waves of chill and a stifling, acrid stench.

Feng Hai, standing closest, shivered uncontrollably and nearly fainted, stumbling backward in alarm.

The nearby servants and bodyguards all instinctively stepped back.

Liang Wei’s face changed dramatically; his eyes darted in panic.

“What is this…” Liang Xianrong frowned, looking uncertainly at Ye Tianci.

“Master Liang, this is the corpse of a month-old piglet. After being killed, it was soaked in black dog’s blood and corpse oil, then buried here by someone with ill intentions to lay a feng shui trap against you.”

“This is the so-called Dead Pig formation—one of the Eight Great Malignant Feng Shui Formations.”

“Whoever set this trap deserves death,” Ye Tianci said quietly.

Liang Xianrong’s eyes widened with rage. “If I ever find out who set this trap against me, I’ll cripple all four of his limbs and leave him ruined for life!”

He took a deep breath and bowed deeply to Ye Tianci. “Sir, your skills border on the miraculous. Please tell me—who is behind this?”

Ye Tianci smiled. “Every grievance has its source, every debt its owner. Who arranged for your gate’s renovation? You should know.”

“What?!” Liang Xianrong exclaimed, turning slowly, his gaze sharp as a blade, fixing on Liang Wei.