Chapter Fifty-Two: Change Comes with the Seventh Encounter

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Teacher Yang told me that when she heard the sound signaling the first trial was passed, she opened her eyes from bed, picked up her phone, and saw that it was February 7th, 7:17 in the morning. At the same time, she knew that Zhong Yang, Cao Na, and I had also passed our trials during this period, because we were a unified group—passing was always together.

The saying goes, "every seventh brings change." In the Book of Changes, each of the sixty-four hexagrams has six lines, representing six steps. When the seventh step is reached, a new phase begins. For example, history has shown that every seven hundred years, a period of great prosperity emerges.

The year 2024 marks the year of the Nine Purple Fire Luck. This "Fire Luck" originates from an ancient method of measuring time called "Three Cycles and Nine Luck Periods." The ancients divided twenty years into one "Luck," and three such twenty-year periods made a "Cycle." Three Cycles formed a "Cycle Set," totaling sixty years, and three such Cycle Sets made 180 years.

After 2024, one must begin to compete for accumulated blessings; negative consequences accelerate, and heaven will strip away the blessings of those who are unworthy.

The Fire Luck year can be divided into upper, middle, and lower luck phases. We are now in the lower luck phase of the Fire Luck year. All blessings and karmic debts accumulated over many lifetimes will be resolved within these twenty years. If in this life one repays the karmic debts from previous lives and cultivates virtue and kindness, even an ordinary person can ascend to the divine realm through practice. If one repays the karmic debts but fails to cultivate properly in this life, then in the next life the accumulated karmic debts will be cleared and one will start anew. However, if one remains unrepentant and continues to commit evil, there will be no next life to return to; one must endure many lifetimes of trials before having another chance.

Feng Huyuan’s dark arts have been broken, and coupled with the arrival of the lower luck year of the Fire Luck, his doom is imminent. Though every evildoer suffers multiplied backlash after their dark arts are undone, their complete destruction requires a critical moment. When that time comes, all calamities will surge upon them.

In the metaphysical circle, news spreads fast. Later, Teacher Yang heard explosive news about Feng Huyuan from others.

Although Feng Huyuan was over sixty, he was a man who never gave up on his desires. This time, he traveled out of town to practice feng shui for someone, bringing along his junior disciple Shen. Upon arriving at the hotel, both tacitly shared the same room. Perhaps due to age and not wanting to lose face in front of his lover, Feng secretly took some forbidden medicine. The effect was potent, and he felt a youthful vigor returning. Just as he was in full display of his prowess on the bed, suddenly—

“Ah!” Feng’s face flushed crimson, sweat poured like rain, and he suddenly collapsed into Shen’s bare embrace. Shen, anxious, held him tightly, repeatedly calling, “Huyuan… don’t scare me…”

In a panic, Shen hastily grabbed some clothes, clumsily dressed herself, and called an ambulance. The sirens wailed through the night as Feng was rushed to the emergency room. The doctors diagnosed a sudden cerebral hemorrhage triggered by sexual excitement. Feng already suffered from hypertension, and combined with the potency of the aphrodisiac, trouble was inevitable.

A male doctor, assuming Shen was Feng’s wife, earnestly advised, “At your age, sexual activity should be limited, and no more aphrodisiacs. We saved him from the brink of death, but the cerebral hemorrhage was severe, causing stroke symptoms. Even though we saved him, he will likely be bedridden.”

Shen’s face went ashen, like frostbitten eggplant skin, silently listening without daring to reveal she was not his wife.

However, hospitalization required insurance, and the stroke could not be concealed. Follow-up treatments and expenses could not be borne by Shen alone. Reluctantly, she contacted Feng’s wife and sons. Feng’s wife rushed to the hospital and, upon learning how her husband had suffered the stroke, slapped Shen across the face.

Only then did hospital staff realize the affair: the old man had cheated with his mistress and suffered a stroke in bed. Truly, old desires die hard—playing in his old age!

Once Feng’s condition stabilized, his wife immediately discharged him, unwilling to stay and embarrass herself at the hospital.

Feng had always spoiled his children, raising his three sons and grandchildren nearly incapable of self-care. His wife did not work, and the family relied solely on Feng’s income from feng shui. Now that he was incapacitated, the reluctant sons had no choice but to find work. Neighbors, friends, and relatives knew the cause of Feng’s stroke, and while no one spoke openly, privately they ridiculed the family, turning them into a laughingstock. Naturally, the family showed no kindness to Feng, who was now bedridden, with a crooked mouth and speech impaired, unable to control his limbs.

Feng’s wife, knowing the cause of his stroke, harbored deep resentment. She had long been aware of his affairs but had turned a blind eye because the family depended on him financially. Now that he had ruined himself and suffered a stroke, she refused to care for him properly. Neglecting him was the best she could offer.

She often left Feng alone at home, locking the door and going out to play mahjong, ignoring his needs for food, drink, or toileting, forcing him to relieve himself in bed, filling the house with stench.

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She secretly cooked special meals for herself and the children, then fed Feng leftovers, making his life miserable. This lasted for three long years until he was worn down to death. When he died, the family and relatives still found him shameful, holding a sparse, simple funeral.

After cremation at the funeral home, Feng’s wife, unwilling to pay for an expensive urn, brought a disposable plastic food container from a restaurant meal. She hastily dumped leftover food into the garbage, rinsed the container roughly with detergent, leaving greasy stains on the lid, and used it to hold Feng’s ashes at the crematorium.

The crematorium workers twitched their mouths in disbelief, unable to look directly at this disrespect.

Because Feng had used dark arts to harm countless people in this life, his three souls and seven spirits were dragged by the Black and White Impermanence to the eighteen levels of hell, condemned never to be reborn.

As for Xu Linlin, her retribution came later. Every year, she flew to Singapore and Thailand multiple times to learn witchcraft and dark arts. Long ago, she helped others with fortune-telling and, together with Feng, ran a fraudulent company. Most often, she survived by selling her body, floating among wealthy men as a kept woman. Unfortunately, her looks were poor once makeup was removed; otherwise, she wouldn’t have tried so desperately to swap faces with Teacher Yang.

Thus, her kept-woman role was unstable.

During that time, Teacher Yang often dreamed of four children, two boys and two girls, all very beautiful. In her dreams, she cherished these children dearly. One night, the children insisted she take them on a mountain outing. Unable to refuse, Yang led them up the mountain. But the mountain was desolate and remote; the higher they climbed, the more uneasy she felt. The overgrown grass and scattered stones concealed countless neglected graves—it was clearly a mass burial ground.

She wanted to turn back, but the four once-adorable children’s eyes turned dark and cold. One little girl’s face was pale as a corpse, her innocent smile eerie and sinister. “This is our home. You are our mother—we will live together.”

The girl’s slender finger pointed to a semicircular courtyard-like grave. “Mother rests there, too. Only then can you stay with us forever and ever…”

Yang’s previously foggy mind cleared the moment she saw that old grave mound. “I am not your mother. I won’t live with you. I have my own children.”

A little boy appeared silently beside her like a ghost. His lips were bright red, like the painted lips on paper dolls, his voice hollow and persistent: “Mother Xu said you are our mother. We are here to take you with us—”

Before Yang could understand who “Mother Xu” was, a narrow crack split open in the old grave mound. The children’s strength suddenly surged beyond that of adult men. They tugged desperately, trying to pull her into the deep tomb. Yang’s usually gentle face was filled with terror. Worse, her powers were completely ineffective here.

That night, Yang seemed to fall into a deep sleep, unresponsive to any calls. Teacher Xing sensed something was wrong, closed his eyes, and sent his spirit to that ethereal space. The scene before him tightened his heart—Yang’s soul was being dragged by four hideous ghost children, about to be pulled into a grave.

He suddenly realized someone was trying to claim her life. In an instant, his spirit transformed into a streak of light rushing there.

The grave gaped like a giant mouth, swallowing Yang. Half her body had already sunk inside, with one hand clinging desperately to the grave’s edge. She struggled fiercely. A pale-skinned boy with dark, deep eyes cruelly pried apart her fingers one by one. If he broke the last two fingers, she would fall entirely into the grave, never to see daylight again.

At that moment, Kunlun God descended swiftly from the sky, his expression fierce. Clutching a gleaming demon-slaying sword, he swung it in a flash. The sharp sword energy severed the boy’s right arm. The boy staggered, as if only then realizing what had happened, then burst into a deafening wail like a scolded child.

The four ghost children were no match for Kunlun God. After rescuing Yang, he bound the four little ghosts tightly with the Immortal Binding Rope and took them back to the rented cabin.

Yang’s face was pale as paper, her whole body radiating a profound weakness. Though pulled back from the brink of death, her desperate struggles left her arms and fingers too painful to lift. “The ‘Mother Xu’ they mentioned must be Xu Linlin.”

This time, Xu Linlin returned from Thailand with four ghost children, all sent here to take Yang’s life.

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The ghost children themselves are tragic. Originally innocent fetal spirits never seeing daylight, aborted and then turned into ghost children by human cruelty and greed, forced to obey commands.

Teacher Xing reattached the severed arm of the ghost child and sent the four back to Xu Linlin through a vengeful counterattack. The backlash of ghost children is terrifying. Xu Linlin, unafraid of death, summoned four at once, perhaps relying on her Thai master to protect her, unafraid even if the little spirits rebelled.

But retribution is inevitable; it’s only a matter of time.

That night, Xu Linlin was playing poker in bed with a newly acquired wealthy patron. After a passionate session, the patron got up to shower. Alone, Xu Linlin wrapped in a blanket, pulled out a cigarette from the bedside table, lit it, and smoked lazily.

Smoke curled from her blood-red lips, revealing four sinister little ghosts hovering above the bed. Before she could react, the ghosts pounced fiercely, their iron-clamp hands gripping her neck. Xu Linlin’s eyes rolled back.

The ghost child whose arm Xing had severed and reattached was filled with hatred. It bared sharp, beast-like fangs, biting fiercely into Xu’s head, as if nursing a deep blood feud, determined to devour her completely and resolve its hatred.

A desperate survival instinct surged in her. She tried to scream for help, hoping the patron would come to her rescue. But her throat was tightly constricted; suffocation flooded her senses. Her lips moved in vain, emitting only faint gurgles. In despair, she kicked the bed wildly, trying to make noise.

At that moment, the patron’s wife called, checking up on him. The patron hurriedly wrapped a towel and answered the call. He spent nearly half an hour talking, skillfully covering his tracks.

After hanging up, he sighed in relief and returned to the bedroom. Not noticing Xu Linlin’s lifeless body, he bent down to pick up scattered clothes, dressing casually while saying, “My wife is suspicious. I can’t stay here tonight. About opening that beauty salon you mentioned, let me know when it’s ready—I’ll invest.”

Seeing no response, he turned his head, his gaze falling on Xu Linlin’s pale, lifeless face. Her pupils were dilated unnaturally, her mouth agape, frozen in terror.

His heart leapt into his throat. Cautiously, he called her name, “Linlin, Linlin...” Gathering courage, he reached out and touched her cold nose.

“Ah!” The patron, a grown man, was so startled by Xu Linlin’s sudden death that he collapsed to the floor, nearly wetting himself.

Xu Linlin—was dead!

The police launched an investigation. The forensic report concluded she died of sudden cardiac arrest triggered by sexual excitement. The patron narrowly escaped legal punishment, but his wife discovered his affair and the mistress’s sudden death in their bed.

The patron’s wife came from a wealthy family; originally, he was a poor boy who rose thanks to his wife’s family. In anger, she divorced him and threw him out.

As for Xu Linlin, she indulged in dark arts this life, harming countless people. Ultimately, retribution was harsh. Following Feng Huyuan’s path, her soul was severely punished after death. Her three souls and seven spirits were imprisoned in the depths of the eighteen levels of hell, never to be freed, condemned to eternal darkness, endlessly repenting her sins.