3: 3

Every phone on the grounds buzzed at once, a string of notifications lighting up.

"Dickerson Group hit by cash-flow crisis, shareholders pulling out one after another, former richest man's standing in doubt."

"Dickerson socialite Carissa Henson in car crash, rushed to hospital, condition unknown."

The villagers stood frozen, turning to stare at Antony in disbelief.

Antony gaped at his phone, then jerked his head toward the graves.

Last of all, he looked at me.

He came roaring across the ground. "Gail, did you do this?"

He bellowed at his bodyguards. "Are you all dead? Beat her!"

Just then, sirens wailed up the road, closer and closer.

A wave of officers arrived, faces grim as they addressed Antony. "We've had multiple reports. The women all say the same thing, that you assaulted them. You're coming with us."

Antony's eyes went bloodshot, fixed on me like a beast about to tear into a meal.

The Dickersons left. The villagers, now, looked at me with something close to fear.

Someone worked up the nerve to come over and try to talk to me. I ignored them.

Cradling my mother's urn, I walked out of that village without a single backward glance.

The next day, Max Dickerson came for me, men in tow.

Ten-some years had passed. He looked a little older now, but still polished, still every inch the man of standing.

He clearly didn't recognize me. And I would never forget his face.

"Go on. Tell me what you did." Max looked down at me, all the bearing of a man used to being obeyed.

"I didn't do anything," I said flatly.

Max let out a cold laugh. "You did nothing, and yet my family's been hit with one disaster after another?"

"Antony asked for your help. Fine, you refuse. But instead you turn around and ruin the Dickersons. So young, and already this vicious."

I kept the anger down and said coldly, "The one who steals another person's grave, that's the vicious one."

Men like Max never seem to grasp that they've done wrong.

He offered no apology. He only pressed harder. "Why did your ancestors lie buried there all those years with no trouble, but the moment my family goes into the ground, everything falls apart?"

I said, mocking, "It is good ground, that's true. But when the virtue doesn't match the place, it brings disaster instead of fortune."

I pointed at the door. "Get out. I have nothing more to say to you."

Before Max could answer, someone wrapped in bandages sprang out from behind him.

The woman's face was half hidden under the gauze, but I knew her at a glance. Carissa Henson, Antony's mother.

Her finger jabbed at me. "So it was you, using some black magic to ruin my family? You've got some nerve."

"I had you looked into long ago. You're just an orphan, nobody to raise you, nobody who cared. No wonder you've got no manners!"

"Get my son out of that jail, and pay three million in damages, or I'll have you dead the second I feel like it."

She railed at me like a fishwife, and Max just watched her with the same doting look.

I gave her a scornful shake of the head. "Ms. Henson, your brow's gone dark, there's misfortune all over your face. Keep spewing bile like this and you may well be looking at bloodshed ahead."

Carissa flew into another round of cursing.

Max said, "Gail, do you think knowing a little geomancy means you can hold us over a barrel?"

"Let me tell you, you're not the only geomancer out there. The masters I know probably outnumber the ones you do."

"One word from me, and these masters step in, and the Dickersons' troubles are solved on the spot. As for you, they'll clean house."

He pulled out his phone right then and started calling those masters, right in front of me.

Fifteen minutes later, his face was the color of ash.

4: 4

Every last one of them turned Max down.

One of them said it flat out. "Mr. Dickerson, you've got nerve. You went and crossed Gail Pruitt. Not even the gods can save you now."

Max lowered his phone and stared at me, baffled. "What did you do to make every geomancer in the country refuse me?"

Carissa Henson sneered beside him. "What do you think she did? Young thing like her, she sold herself for it. That's all."

"The same way you did when you were young?" I said mildly.

Carissa flew into a rage and raised her hand to strike me.

Max caught her wrist.

"I'll be blunt," he said in a low, cold voice. "To people like us, a geomancer is a toy. Nothing more."

"Play along, cooperate, and we'll keep you comfortable. You'll never want for food or clothes."

"But if you won't behave, crushing you is easy. And your death could serve a purpose. It would put the fear of God into all those other geomancers who don't know their place."

I laughed. "Mr. Dickerson, I hope you're still this confident when your family's in ruins."

His face changed.

He gave a cold grunt and turned to Carissa. "We're leaving."

On her way out, Carissa spat the words at me. "Gail Pruitt, I'll be waiting. When you're out of options, you'll come crawling back and beg us on your knees."

......

Max moved fast.

Two hours later, the smear posts flooded the internet.

"Fake master Gail Pruitt, famous so young. What exactly did she trade for it?"

"Sold her body to buy the title of master, dragging the whole geomancy world through the mud. A rotten apple, plain and simple."

"Villagers testify: they saw Gail Pruitt with all kinds of shady men with their own eyes."

Those villagers had obviously taken the Dickersons' money. They ran their mouths on camera, tearing me down without pause.

With their testimony, the netizens swallowed it whole.

Someone dug up my social media account and buried me in mockery and abuse.

Others messaged me privately, asking how much it would cost to meet me for a night.

Within a few days my name had become a dirty joke. Influencers cranked out videos using "Gail Pruitt" as a byword for a woman with no shame.

The abuse online lit a fire under a lot of people in the geomancy world.

They called me one after another, ready to step in and teach these people a lesson.

I shook my head and told them no.

I was playing a long game. The moment wasn't ripe yet. No need to rush.

That night, Max called. "Master Pruitt, you've seen what I'm capable of by now."

"I suggest we each take a step back. I'll clear up the misunderstanding, and you fix the Dickerson family's problem."

"We shake hands and make peace. Isn't that better than both of us getting hurt?"

"If this is all you've got," I said flatly, "then I'm truly disappointed."

Max hung up, furious.

Soon my real home address was leaked, and the netizens started massing outside.

The house I lived in turned into a landmark, people coming and going day and night without a break.

Plenty of streamers pointed their cameras at my windows, foul-mouthed the whole time.

One day I went out to run an errand. Even with sunglasses and a mask on, an influencer and his crew stopped me halfway there.

He shoved his camera into my face. "Gail Pruitt, own up to what you do. You did the dirty deeds, so what's with all this hiding?"

I frowned.

I recognized this one. He was on the Dickerson family's payroll. He'd shown up more than anyone these past days, and he cursed me hardest on his streams.

"What do you want?" I said mildly.

He puffed himself up. "You got the guts to do a livestream with me? Let everyone hear exactly what's going on in that head of yours."

"Sure," I said evenly.

I agreed, and it threw him.

Two seconds later he lit up. "Really? That's great. We're starting right now!"

Afraid I might bolt, he had his people box me in from every side.

I could see his stream had already boiled over. The viewer count had blown past a million and was still climbing.

A million people cursing me at once, the filth all but swallowing the screen.

He grinned, pleased with himself. "Gail Pruitt, let me interview you. Why did you sell your body? Just for the title of master? Does your face mean nothing at all to you?"

I asked him straight. "Who says I sold my body? You have proof?"

He froze.

The comments kept pouring the abuse on me. "Still putting on an act? The Dickersons are the richest family in the country. You think they'd frame you for nothing?"

"Oh?" I said. "So it was the Dickersons who said it?"

I dialed the police right then and there. "The Dickerson family is spreading lies about me and running a smear campaign. I want them to apologize and pay damages."

The netizens went quiet for a beat.

Someone said, "That's bold. She actually called the cops. What if she really was framed?"

But more of them kept calling me a fraud, saying I wouldn't cry until I saw my own coffin.

The influencer's eyes darted around, and he tried another angle. "Whether or not you actually sold your body, we're all curious about something else."

"The Dickerson family offered to work with you. Why did you refuse? Why go after them?"

"Is it that you're not good enough, and you don't dare take the job because you're scared they'll see through you?"

"Because they're rotten people," I said, plain and serious. "I don't want to work with them."

He smiled, smug. "You have proof for that? Because without it, the Dickersons could have the police come arrest you."

I looked into the camera and smiled, letting it linger. "I do. I have plenty. Want to see?"