"If my shop was the laboratory, then this is your first field test," Lin Xiao Tong announced, gesturing towards the colossal entrance of the Global Harbor mall. "Welcome to the most complex energy confluence in Putuo District."
Chen Wei stared up at the sprawling glass and steel structure. To his old self, it was just a mall—a place of commerce and consumerism. To his new senses, it was a raging tempest of energy. The sheer volume of it was staggering.
Thousands of people milled about, each a tiny flickering candle of Rén Qì, creating a massive, roaring bonfire of human emotion: desire, boredom, joy, frustration. The building itself pulsed with a life of its own, a vast network of electrical wiring, wi-fi signals, and cellular data creating a thrumming, omnipresent hum of Urban Qi. And woven throughout were pockets of Líng Qì from the expensive jade and crystal displays, and even the faint, hungry echo of Yāo Qì (demonic qi) clinging to antique-imitation artifacts.
It was a symphony, just as he'd thought, but a chaotic, deafening one. It was a hundred orchestras playing different songs at the same time.
'How am I supposed to find a single note in this wall of sound?' he thought, a wave of sensory nausea washing over him. The agate bracelet on his wrist felt like it was working overtime, a small dam straining against a flood. Without it, he was certain he'd be on his knees by now.
"I see you feel it," Xiao Tong noted, her expression unreadable. She was wearing a stylish black bomber jacket and sunglasses, blending in perfectly with the weekend crowd. "Your job is simple, but not easy. We walk. You identify. Tell me what you feel, and where it's coming from. Your first lesson is disentanglement."
They began to walk through the polished corridors. The first few minutes were a disaster. Everything was a blur.
"There's... a lot of greed over there," Chen Wei said, gesturing vaguely towards a luxury handbag store.
"No kidding, Sherlock," Xiao Tong deadpanned. "That's just reading the room, not the qi. Be more specific. Close your eyes if you have to. Don't look, feel."
He tried. He closed his eyes and focused, trying to push past the overwhelming noise of the crowd. He sought the distinct 'textures' he had learned. The sharp, orderly hum of electricity. The warm, messy chaos of human emotion. The cool, still purity of spiritual energy.
Slowly, painstakingly, a clearer picture began to form.
"Okay," he said, opening his eyes. "The lighting system... it's a grid. A steady hum. But the wi-fi signal is different. It's more... fluid. It wraps around everything. It's strongest near the cafes."
"Good. That's the Urban Qi," Xiao Tong approved. "What else?"
They passed a high-end jewelry store. A wave of cool, clean energy washed over Chen Wei, a stark contrast to the human chaos around it.
"There," he said, pointing. "Inside that store. It's like your jade cicada, but... bigger. More passive. A lot of Líng Qì."
"Jadeite displays. Standard practice for attracting wealth," she confirmed. "Now for the hard part. Can you feel anything... out of place?"
They continued their walk, Chen Wei's focus deepening. He was getting better at filtering the background noise, isolating specific signatures. It was mentally exhausting, like solving a hundred complex equations at once.
"How do you do this?" he asked, his voice strained. "How do you walk through a place like this and not go insane?"
Xiao Tong was quiet for a moment. "Training," she said simply. "My grandfather started teaching me when I was five. He'd make me sit in a crowded temple for hours and just... listen. For me..." She hesitated. "It was work. I'd rather have been playing video games."
It was the first time she'd ever spoken of her past. Chen Wei seized the opportunity. "Your family... are they all Daoists?"
"The Lin family has been a part of the Shanghai Daoist Sect for five generations," she said, her tone matter-of-fact, but with an undercurrent of something else. Pride? Resignation? "We're city folk. We specialize in urban feng shui, spirit pacification... the day-to-day maintenance of the city's spiritual hygiene."
"So you never had a choice?"
She shot him a sharp look. "There's always a choice. I could have gone to university, gotten a finance degree, made a fortune in Lujiazui just like you. I chose this. Because someone has to. Because if people like us don't do it, then the city gets... sick. And when the city gets sick, things like the Star-Sucking Hag start crawling out of the cracks."
Her words hung in the air between them, imbued with a weight that silenced him. He was beginning to understand. For him, this was a terrifying new reality. For her, it was a legacy, a duty.
It was then that he felt it. A thread of energy that was discordant and wrong.
It was thin, weak, and had a foul, greasy texture. It was Yāo Qì.
"Wait," he whispered, stopping dead. "Over there."
He pointed towards a small, independent shop tucked between two major brands. It sold 'cultural' items—mass-produced terracotta warrior replicas, cheap calligraphy sets, and gaudy dragon statues.
"In that shop. It's faint, but it's there. Something is wrong."
Xiao Tong's demeanor snapped from casual mentor to focused professional. She subtly adjusted her sunglasses, her eyes scanning the storefront. "Describe it."
"It's... sticky," Chen Wei struggled for the word. "And hungry. But not like the Hag. This feels... dumber. More primitive."
"Follow it," she commanded in a low voice.
They entered the shop. The air was thick with the smell of cheap incense. Chen Wei focused, tracing the foul thread of energy. It led him past the shelves of kitsch and to the back of the store, where a large, lacquered vase stood on a pedestal. It was painted with garish, inaccurate depictions of ancient myths.
"It's coming from that vase," he said.
Xiao Tong approached it, her movements casual. She pretended to admire the craftsmanship, running a hand along its surface. Chen Wei, watching her, saw her fingers make a series of tiny, almost invisible gestures.
"It's a Greed Imp," she murmured, loud enough only for him to hear. "A bottom-feeder. Someone probably summoned it by accident using a flawed ritual, hoping it would bring them wealth. Instead, it just sits here, feeding on the ambient desire of shoppers and causing bad luck for the store owner."
"Can you... get rid of it?"
"Watch and learn," she said.
She turned to the shopkeeper. "Excuse me, I love this vase! But it feels a little... dusty. Do you mind if I wipe it down?"
The bored shopkeeper just grunted his assent.
Xiao Tong pulled a small, silk handkerchief from her pocket. Chen Wei watched, mesmerized, as she wiped the vase. Her movements were fluid and precise. With each wipe, she drew a tiny, glowing character in the air with her finger, a character that shone for a split second before fading. Chen Wei couldn't read the symbols, but he could feel them. They were pure, sharp, and filled with Zhèng Qì. It was like watching a surgeon make incisions with a scalpel of light.
With a final, swift motion, she folded the handkerchief and put it back in her pocket. The foul, sticky energy signature vanished. It was simply gone. The air in the shop instantly felt lighter, cleaner.
The shopkeeper, who had been yawning, suddenly sat up straight and looked around, as if waking from a long nap. A customer who had been hesitating at the door suddenly walked in, a determined look on his face. The "bad luck" had lifted.
They left the shop.
"That's it?" Chen Wei asked, amazed. "No explosions? No lightning bolts?"
"This isn't a movie," Xiao Tong smirked, the casual mask back in place. "Ninety-nine percent of this job is sanitation, not warfare. The key is precision. Why use a bomb when a scalpel will do?"
She looked at him, and her smirk softened into a genuine, rare smile. "But I couldn't have found it without you, Mr. Signal Receiver. Your 'scalpel' saw exactly where the infection was. You did good."
For the first time since his world had turned upside down, Chen Wei felt a surge of something other than fear. It was competence. It was purpose. The chaotic symphony of the mall no longer seemed so deafening.
He was beginning, just beginning, to learn how to read the music.