At 6:30 in the morning, Los Angeles, the morning fog began to dissipate.
The skylight had not yet completely penetrated the rolling fog on the coastline, and the villa area was still shrouded in a layer of silver-white silence. The cypress trees in the courtyard stood quietly, with dew dripping from the branches and leaves. Occasionally, a distant whistle came, as if coming from another world.
Lin Fang stood on the balcony on the second floor, wearing a dark green long gown, with his sleeves slightly fluttering. In his hand, a purple copper compass was quietly turning, and the surface was engraved with dense seal characters and runes. The sun slanted on the compass, and the "Tianchi Red Needle" trembled slightly, as if a spirit snake was wandering, sometimes east and sometimes west, but it always swayed back and forth in the east, uncertain about its position.
"The East Coast... It's really different."
Lin Fang whispered to himself, flicking the edge of the copper plate with his fingertips, making a distant hum. He stood quietly for a long time before slowly closing the compass and putting it into the bag, but his eyes never moved away from the eastern sky that had not yet been fully illuminated.
Last night, the invitation letter without the sender's signature was simple and cold, but it was like a drop of ink thrown into a pool of stagnant water.
"AMSP" American Civilian Supernatural Research Society.
An organization that has always been on the edge of official and underground. It does not belong to the federal government, but has always maintained close cooperation with major military laboratories and historical and archaeological institutes. Its archives have been cross-shared with the CIA and NSA many times. But the weirdest thing is that its funding flow and senior members have always been a mystery.
Under the letter paper was a white magnetic card with only one sentence on it, written in simplified Chinese:
"Boston·Charles Street·38·Before 5 pm."
There was no contact information, no airport pick-up arrangements, and even no signature.
Lin Fang was not surprised.
The real game is never set up by others for you, but whether you can turn the tables, change the situation, and rebuild the world after you step into it.
He turned and entered the study and called Faulkner's private phone.
"Book me a flight to Boston at noon today, business class, one-way."
"Got it, Boss."
"In addition, the subsequent adjustment of the Greenwell Phase II office, the Feng Shui Bureau cannot be changed within three days. No one can move a nail."
Faulkner on the other end of the phone paused, obviously not understanding the deep meaning of this "Feng Shui Bureau", but he immediately agreed.
"Understood."
Lin Fang hung up the phone and glanced at the copper compass on the table again.
The wind has begun to turn.
...
Five hours later, Boston International Airport.
Lin Fang walked down the cabin, holding a long gray cloth bag, and walked calmly. He was wearing a slightly retro Chinese-style gray gown and black cloth shoes, which looked particularly strange against the background of this bustling Western airport. Those hurried travelers, white-collar workers holding Starbucks coffee cups, and international students walking and talking on the phone all seemed to stop for a moment in front of him.
His presence was not ostentatious, but it could not be ignored.
"Excuse me, sir... Are you... Mr. Lin?"
A white female assistant in a black uniform came up with a pick-up card in her hand, with "Mr. Lin Feng" written on it.
Lin Fang nodded, and she immediately made a "please follow me" gesture.
"The chairman is waiting for you."
Lin Fang smiled slightly and followed her through the crowd, but in an instant he noticed a badge on her chest.
It was an old bronze badge with a triple concentric octagonal star pattern in the center. In the symbol, three tiny stars rotated around the center, which seemed to coincide with some kind of ancient array.
"Three stars shining in succession, eight gates of escape..."
Lin Fang's heart moved slightly.
It was indeed not an ordinary organization.
…
38 Charles Street, downtown Boston.
This is a 19th-century red brick building with three floors and a mottled exterior, as if it were isolated from the world. However, once you step inside, it's like entering another world.
Under your feet is a mirror-like marble floor, and on the walls hang rubbings of mystical totems and lost civilizations from all over the world. The crystal chandelier on the ceiling is not a common industrial style, but a "magic tool" of some ritual space. Its twelve-sided symmetrical structure just corresponds to the twelve-star system of ancient Babylon.
Lin Fang walked slowly, as if he was walking through a corridor intertwined with history and mystery.
Finally, they stopped in front of a bronze door.
The door was engraved with mottos written in many languages, including Latin, ancient Xixia, cuneiform, and even oracle bone inscriptions.
The door slowly opened, and a semi-enclosed reception room appeared in front of him.
There was a round table with three people sitting around it.
In the center sat a white man in his seventies, with a ruddy complexion and silver hair. He wore a well-tailored dark blue suit, with a cross pendant inlaid with rubies hanging around his neck. He looked calm and composed, like a judge who combined faith and reason.
He smiled and stood up:
"Mr. Lin, welcome to our institute's East Coast headquarters. You can call me Moran."
Lin Fang nodded slightly, his eyes sweeping across the round table.
On the left, an Asian man in his thirties, with short hair like a knife, slightly raised eyebrows, sharp eyes, and a very restrained aura, but with a military-specific killing. On the right, a dark-skinned middle-aged Latin American man wearing silver-rimmed glasses gently spread his hands and placed a yellowed parchment scroll, on which were engraved totems and spells, like a fragment of a sacrificial text from an ancient tribe in Central and South America.
Lin Fang didn't say hello and spoke directly:
"You are looking for me because of Perry Valley?"
Moran didn't deny it, just smiled and pushed a file bag in front of him:
"We detected unnatural gravity distortion and geomagnetic anomalies at the bottom of Perry Valley two years ago. But we couldn't explain it until you showed up."
"Do you know that the energy level of the 'Wind Evil Altar' you sealed is equivalent to the 'R4' level anomaly in our classification system."
Lin Fang didn't say anything and slowly opened the file bag.
Inside were satellite images, magnetic field distribution maps, underground thermal energy layer analysis, and a set of comparative photos. Images of the topography and magnetic disturbance distribution before and after he performed the spell.
On a piece of paper behind him, there were dense notes:
"The structure is close to the Chinese 'Nine Palace Sealing Technique'." "The practitioner used the 'Different Pole Locking Evil Method', relying on the reverse interference of the geomagnetic field." "It may verify that the Eastern Feng Shui technique does have the structural logic of an operational energy field."
Lin Fang smiled faintly and put the paper down:
"So, you want to cooperate with me now?"
Moran nodded:
"To be precise, it is mutually beneficial. You have shown your edge in the United States, and now it is time to sheathe your sword."
Lin Fang raised his eyebrows:
"What do you mean?"
"We hope that you will serve as an 'external consultant' to assist us in investigating other abnormal veins. You don't need to be loyal, just use your technique to solve the situation."
"We can provide you with military intelligence, university research materials, and even historical historical samples and experimental equipment. "
Lin Fang pondered for a moment, and suddenly said:
"I have two conditions."
"Please speak."
"I, I must personally evaluate all tasks and decide whether to participate. It cannot be forced, implied, or deceived."
"Two, you must find someone for me."
Moran's expression moved slightly:
"Who?"
Lin Fang's eyes sank a little:
"My master, I went to the United States thirty years ago and disappeared. It is said to have died in the 'Snow Island Incident' of Alaska. I don't believe it. I want the original archives of your incident, all."
The air temporarily stagnates.
The Asian man looked at each other with Moran, who finally nodded slowly:
"Trade."
"Welcome to join the 'Ground Vein Project'."
...
In the evening, Lin Fang walked out of the old building at 38 Charles Street.
The sunset stretched the outline of the old city long and narrow, and the heavy badge in his pocket slowly turned between his fingers was the symbol of "AMSP special consultant".
He didn't look back, but he seemed to be able to feel that there were still eyes watching him in the old building.
This is not the end, but the beginning.
…
At this moment, Bella was standing in front of the window in the top-floor office of Greenwell headquarters in Los Angeles.
The latest news was scrolling on the projection screen:
"Large-scale geomagnetic disturbances were observed at the epicenter of the Boston earthquake! Experts suspect that it was an unknown geological structure reaction or "human factors" intervention..."
She gently pressed the call button:
"Faulkner, where is Lin Fang?"
"He flew to the East Coast."
She lowered her eyes and whispered softly:
"Sure enough...he is not an ordinary person."
…
At night, Lin Fang stayed in an independent apartment in the west of Boston.
He sat cross-legged and placed the bronze badge on the desk. Beside the table, the laptop screen lit up, and he began to type on the keyboard.
"Draft of Feng Shui Environment Renovation Design"
Client: Greenwell Consortium
Project Name: "Mingzhai Center" Layout Diagram
Content: Five Elements Harmony - Northwest Transposition; Yin Sha Counteraction - Set Tiangang Mirror; Wind Mouth Locking - Seven-Star Copper Nail; Building Route Adjustment Planned to Be Mapped within Three Days...
He did not come for the title of "Consultant".
He wanted to use Feng Shui to personally turn these strange cities into the "spiritual vein situation" under his control.
America is just the beginning.
The next round has just begun