In a small town convenience store, the old man stared blankly at the abacus on the counter.

The abacus had broken, the beads scattered all over the floor, and he picked them up one by one, repairing it anew.

Though the craftsmanship was meticulous and showed no trace of repair, what could deceive others could not deceive himself, some things were shattered in the heart.

At the old man's feet was a small incense burner, crammed full with incense of different sizes, but without exception, every stick burnt out after less than a quarter.

This was what the realm of Fate called "decapitated incense."

The flame extinguishing symbolized a blocked Life Chart, and when every incense stick was like this, it meant the absence of vitality.

The old man's face was dreadfully somber.

When he was younger, even while lighting incense for death row inmates awaiting execution, he could still burn one out of ten completely. It did not imply a shred of hope, but was in alignment with the envious deficit inherent in the path of Fate.

But now, the old man lit incense for himself, his wife, his daughter-in-law, and his two grandsons, all of which extinguished before the end. Worst of all, when lighting incense for his son who had left home, he coughed up blood three times, nearly fainting.

This indicated that the vitality of his family's Life Chart suddenly plummeted to a level much lower than that of the death row inmates.

Death row inmates could still hope for a last-minute clemency, but for his entire family, even that was a luxury.

The old man muttered, "Who on earth did the main family provoke this time?"

The main family unsealed, summoning the relatives to execute some grand endeavor. Given his old age, it was up to his son to be called upon.

Now it seemed not only did it fail, but it entangled them in some terrifying karmic retribution.

From the incense's appearance, the old man had lost even the thought of fleeing or hiding, as it was meaningless, too late to escape.

"What are you daydreaming about? The roller shutter is broken, you better fix it."

His wife approached, holding a cloth.

He numbly nodded, stood up, and went upstairs to fetch tools.

His wife called out to his back, "When will our son return from visiting relatives this time? I miss him."

He replied, "No rush, soon the family will be reunited."

In town, along the street, the first floor was a store, the second a residence, the third a self-built extension only entered by the old man and his son, normally locked with a metal lock.

Recently, he began occasionally taking his two grandsons in, teaching them to recognize some talismans, recite some techniques.

Outwardly, the family appeared modestly prosperous, far from wealth or nobility, but there were things money could not buy.

Such as the family's fate, the daughter-in-law's Life Chart was calculated before entering the family, predicting she could bear sons, with fate harmonious, bringing peace and Luck.

Even though the grandchildren were just "enrolled," they showed great talent in this path and would inherit the lineage, yet as per the tradition of the main family, the grandsons would have to establish their own households after coming of age, never to interact again.

In ordinary families, consulting fortune tellers for births, marriages, or deaths was merely procedural for peace of mind. Truly believing was considered somewhat foolish.

However, this family genuinely reaped the benefits, maintaining modest prosperity, free from illness or disaster, passed down generations.

While climbing the stairs, the old man heard the sound of the ceiling fan turning in the second-floor living room.

Who would turn on a fan in winter?

Reaching the second-floor door, he saw in the living room his daughter-in-law and two grandsons, all hanging there.

The turning fan blew their hair.

Faces livid, tongues protruding, rigormortis setting in.

They had just had breakfast together, yet suddenly, they were like this.

The old man wiped his eyes, picked up his tools from the living room corner, and headed downstairs.

The store's roller shutter was closed, his wife, who had just spoken to him, was pressed against it, shriveled, drained of blood and flesh, like a Luck paper.

Her eyes showed terror as if she had seen something horrendous.

He put down the tools, took a deep breath.

He knew, next, it was his turn; he closed his eyes.

Then, beside him, ghostly figures appeared. Some had records in local chronicles, others were the likeness of statues worshipped in nearby temples.

His body started to twist, gradually folding, the sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. He showed pain, wanting to scream, but no sound escaped.

And it happened slowly, as if the local ghosts intentionally prolonged this punishment longer and longer.

When all was settled, a group of mischievous children ran by outside. One kid lit a firecracker, throwing it upwards inadvertently, landing it through the second-floor window.

"Bang!"

The firecracker exploded.

Fearing the homeowner's scolding, the children scattered like birds and beasts.

The fire ignited, starting on the second floor, spreading to the first and third.

Seeing the fire, neighbors and nearby shopkeepers rushed to extinguish it, yet strangely, the roller shutter that the woman had mentioned being broken would not budge despite kicking and pounding. They could only try splashing some water inside.

The flames were fierce, fire snakes spitting from the windows, intimidating indeed.

Yet oddly, the fire only burned this building. Neighbors on both sides assumed they were doomed, only to find the fire not spreading out a bit, stunned.

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