**Chapter 36: Mr. Li of Suiyuan Hall**
Wang Bin and the elderly farmer stepped forward, flanking Li Chengfeng. "This is my classmate," Wang Bin announced to the crowd. "A true feng shui master. His shop, *Suiyuan Hall*, is renowned in Qingzhou. If he says these stone oxen are screaming, I believe him—and so should you!"
Before the murmurs could settle, a middle-aged woman pushed through the crowd, squinting at Li Chengfeng. Her eyes widened. "You… you're *Mr. Li*! The one who found that drowned boy with a gourd!"
Li Chengfeng nodded, though he didn't recognize her.
Tears welled in her eyes as she clutched his hand. "I followed you that day! The child's body… it rose when you chanted. *Magic*!"
The crowd buzzed. News of the "Gourd Miracle" had spread like wildfire online, though most dismissed it as hoax. Now, faced with the living legend—and bleeding stone guardians—even skeptics wavered.
"My in-laws died last week," the woman pleaded. "My husband coughs blood. Save us, Mr. Li. I'll pay whatever—"
Villagers closed in, desperation overriding doubt.
Wang Xilai, cornered near his Audi, barked: "Superstitious fools! This charlatan's conning you!"
Wang Bin jabbed a finger at the weeping stones. "Explain *this* with your *science*, Chief!"
The crowd erupted.
"Traitor!" someone shouted. "You sold our souls!"
Wang Xilai scrambled into his car, roaring: "Cross me, and you'll regret it!"
A shovel clanged against his hood. "Try us, leech!"
Laughter chased the fleeing Audi.
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With the tyrant gone, Li Chengfeng gestured to the blood-soaked earth. "Dig here. Eighteen pits—*now*."
Farmers obeyed, sweat gleaming under the waning sun. Soon, a cry pierced the twilight:
"Gods below—*bones*!"
A villager recoiled from a freshly dug hole. Nestled in the soil lay a tiny skeleton—not human, but feline, its skull split by ritual markings.
Li Chengfeng knelt, brushing dirt from the remains. "Sacrificed cats… anchoring the *sha qi*. The Japanese buried them to amplify the curse."
The elderly farmer trembled. "How many?"
"Seventy-two." Li Chengfeng's jaw tightened. "One for each fracture in the oxen."
As dusk fell, the crows' cries crescendoed—a dirge for the dying village.
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