When I first saw Guo Xiaotong's father, Guo Ziping, if she hadn't told me beforehand, I would have thought he was her grandfather.
The man before me had graying hair, a hunched back, sunken eyes bloodshot with red veins, and sat curled up on the sofa looking like a candle in the wind—worn out and barely hanging on.
When he saw Xiaotong and me enter together, a faint light flickered in his eyes, and he struggled to his feet.
"Dad, you're not well—please, sit down," Xiaotong hurried over and helped him back onto the sofa.
Guo Ziping nodded politely at me. "Forgive me, I haven't been feeling well lately. Please, make yourselves at home."
I casually took a seat on the living room sofa while Uncle Hu stood behind me with his bag.
"Dad, this is Young Master Wu, the sole disciple of Li Xuanzong—the Feng Shui King. I invited him to take a look at your condition," Xiaotong explained.
Guo Ziping's eyes widened in surprise. Trembling, he stood up again. "So you're the disciple of the Feng Shui King—my apologies! If I'd known such an honored guest was coming, I would have waited for you at the door."
He shot a reproachful look at his daughter. "And you—bringing such an important guest without warning me? Everyone knows the name of the Feng Shui King, and his disciple is just as esteemed. We mustn't be rude."
Xiaotong stuck out her tongue. "I was out shopping with Yaoyao and thought of inviting Young Master Wu at the last minute. I didn't have time to tell you."
As I observed Guo Ziping, I noted his darkened brow, bluish complexion, and eyes veined with red—a man already at death's door. His yang energy was faint, his vitality nearly gone. There was a faint trace of malevolent energy, but not enough to be the main cause.
He seemed to be suffering from a serious illness, with nothing else immediately obvious.
While I studied him, he studied me. "Young Master Wu, forgive my lack of hospitality."
"You're too polite, Mr. Guo. Yunyao and I are old classmates and friends—her friends are my friends. I'm glad to help," I said with a smile.
Yunyao beamed at me.
Then I added, "Mr. Guo, your condition is not a simple matter. Can you tell me more about how it began?"
A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. After glancing at his daughter, he said, "Young Master Wu, could we speak in private?"
I could tell he had something he didn't want others to hear. "Of course—let's find another room."
Just as he was about to rise, the sound of an engine came from the courtyard. Moments later, a slick-faced young man walked in with an elderly man in a black traditional jacket.
"Uncle Guo, are you home?" the young man called loudly.
Guo Ziping looked toward the voice. "It's Wen Hao—come, sit."
I had been about to follow Guo Ziping out, but instead I sat back down.
I noticed Xiaotong's face darken the moment she saw Wen Hao, clearly displeased by his arrival.
Wen Hao ignored her expression and strode over. "Tongtong, I asked you to dinner today. Why didn't you come?"
"I was busy," she replied curtly, turning her back to him.
Wen Hao led the old man to sit by Guo Ziping. "Uncle Guo, I heard your health hasn't been good lately. The hospital couldn't find the cause, so I've brought a master from the mystical arts to see if he can help."
Only then did I realize I had company from the same trade.
They say rivals in the same field are natural enemies—and I was here first. Cutting in so brazenly was downright shameless.
While Wen Hao spoke, I looked at the old man, and he looked back at me, giving me a slight smile—one that, to me, carried a hint of mockery.
In our line of work, those with real skill give off a certain aura, a "qi" that you can sense instantly. This man did have some genuine ability—and he could tell that I did too.
Xiaotong's face turned cold. "Wen Hao, there's no need. I've already brought a master. Please take your friend and leave—my family doesn't welcome you."
"Tongtong, that's no way to speak. Wen Hao means well," Guo Ziping chided.
Wen Hao's eyes landed on me, and he laughed. "Tongtong, don't tell me this so-called master is this kid? A little brat calling himself a master?"
Uncle Hu's face darkened. He stepped forward, pointing at Wen Hao. "What did you just say? Say it again!"
He moved to grab him, but I pulled him back. "Uncle Hu, stand down."
With a cold snort, Uncle Hu retreated to my side.
"Now conmen work in pairs? Father and son on the same scam? You dare lay a hand on me? Do you know who I am?" Wen Hao jeered.
I had no idea where this idiot came from, but my mood soured instantly.
I stood up. "Uncle Hu, let's go. Since they already have a master, there's no need for us to stay."
We headed for the door.
"Young Master Wu, please don't go! Only you can help my father—if you leave, what will we do?" Xiaotong rushed forward, clutching my arm.