Chapter 1: The Price of Greed

In the depths of the opulent Li residence, heavy sandalwood incense curled through the air, sweet yet suffocating. The flower hall glittered with wealth—lacquered furniture, silk drapes, porcelain vases gleaming under the candlelight. It was a room built to impress, to overwhelm.

But Chen Songnian could barely feel his own body in it.

His fingers, pale and bony, kept brushing the jade compass hidden within his wide sleeves. The cool weight of the heirloom grounded him, barely. Its presence was both comfort and warning.

Across from him sat Li Wancai, the city’s wealthiest man. His skin was unnaturally smooth, his eyes cold and calculating. A hooked nose gave him the look of a bird of prey. He leaned forward, the candlelight catching the hunger in his eyes.

“You’ve seen the place,” Li said, voice low and clipped. “It’s called Panlong Ridge. I want the dragon’s head—the most prosperous point. You’ll mark the exact spot for my father’s new grave.”

Chen Songnian’s throat worked. He’d known Panlong Ridge. Years ago, he had traveled there with his father and grandfather. They had marked it on their family scrolls with a red cross and one warning word:

絶 — forbidden.

The ridge appeared majestic, shaped like a coiled dragon, yes. But beneath the curves, the land was twisted, the earth heavy with violence. There was a formation hidden there—“The Snake Strangles the Rabbit”—a cursed pattern known to bring ruin and death.

And now Li Wancai wanted to bury his father right at the core of it.

“I’m telling you,” Li snapped, “I want prosperity. My family’s fortune has stalled since my father passed. Something is wrong with the old grave. This new one—this must fix it.”

His fist slammed down again. At a signal, his butler stepped forward with a thick silk pouch. He upended it onto the table.

Gold bars. Silver ingots. Round, gleaming cat’s-eye stones.

They tumbled forward like hungry beasts.

“This is your deposit,” Li Wancai said with a toothy smile. “Once the job is done, ten times more. Enough for your children and your children’s children. Think carefully, Master Chen.”

The glow of the riches burned Chen’s eyes. The air reeked of power and perfume. The compass in his sleeve shivered—barely perceptible, but alive.

He could hear his grandfather’s voice again, carved into the marrow of his being.

He tried to speak, but his tongue stuck. The butler’s eyes bore into him. Li Wancai leaned in like a vulture. The pile of wealth gleamed like a trap, glittering with doom.

He swallowed.

“Where… is the exact site?”
The words fell from his mouth like stones. Dry. Hollow.

Li Wancai’s face lit up.

“Panlong Ridge. Twenty li west of the city. My men have already cleared the path. All we need now is your eye to mark the dragon’s head. Tomorrow morning, we ride.”

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