After settling things with Jiang Zhihao, Shui Miao hurried together with Xiao Tudou to the Sanya Grand Hotel.
It’s always good to build more Taoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, as this will accelerate the speed and increase the quantity of incense offerings collected in the future.
Shui Miao had never considered interfering with existing temples. After all, every gourd has its own pit; those existing temples and monasteries likely already had deities collecting offerings. To seize them would be nothing but courting death. Now, he would find Sun Hao and Jiang Tao again, and have them build more temples and monasteries. They were both super-rich entrepreneurs with massive overseas businesses. As long as they were fully committed, building some temples abroad might not be impossible.
※※※
In the northern part of Zhonghai City, Yanbei District.
A small temple, located amidst farmland and seemingly unremarkable, had broken its usual tranquility. Hundreds of people had gathered here, most of them local villagers. Among the crowd were several luxury cars and business tycoons dressed in formal suits, who, led by a strangely dressed individual, were worshipping a female statue inside the temple.
The leading tycoon was none other than Han Baisheng.
The oddly dressed man was the shaman from the north.
The female statue inside the temple had stood there for centuries.
There was also a mysterious legend associated with this temple.
It was said that long ago, during a time of famine, many people became refugees and gathered here. A kind-hearted woman offered them porridge and helped them survive. She always wore plain white clothes, never smiled, and never spoke, disappearing into her house after distributing the porridge every day. Later, a gang of bandits came and broke into her house, but they couldn’t find the woman. All they saw was a well. Thinking she had hidden inside with plenty of grain, they climbed down to search—but those who went down never returned.
Yet every evening, the woman appeared as usual, handing out porridge to the refugees.
It was as if those bandits had never existed at all.
When the famine ended, the woman disappeared.
No one knew who she was. Many believed she was a celestial being. Later, one of the once-starving refugees became wealthy and returned to build a temple, purchasing fine jadeite stones to carve a statue of the woman, which was placed inside the temple. The small temple was named Bai Niangniang Temple (White Lady Temple). People came to worship here during festivals and holidays.
And whenever natural disasters struck, people would gather here, and the White Lady would appear.
This phenomenon continued for hundreds of years.
In recent decades, with fewer natural disasters and improved living conditions, and as the older generation passed away, the younger generation no longer believed in the legend, treating it merely as a story. Hence, fewer and fewer people came to offer worship. However, anyone attempting to demolish the temple would suffer headaches, nosebleeds, and collapse before even approaching it.
Today, Han Baisheng, following the shaman’s advice, specially came here to seek help from the White Lady.
Han Baisheng firmly believed that Shui Miao had used sorcery against him. He refused to accept defeat and was determined not to lose face. He was determined to challenge Shui Miao at all costs. He believed only by defeating Shui Miao could he regain his dignity. As for Qian Wangke, he wasn’t worried at all—now that he had the shaman on his side, he was confident Qian Wangke would eventually submit.
Of course, among those Han Baisheng had invited—the monk, the Taoist priest, and Madam Liu—none had shown up.
※※※
As Shui Miao and Xiao Tudou entered the hotel lobby, they immediately saw the monk Han had hired rising from the sofa and walking toward them.
Still seated on the sofa were the old Taoist priest and the previous Southern Chinese sorcerer from Nanyang.
The young monk approached Shui Miao with a smile and directly asked, “Boss Shui Miao, would you like to come over and talk?”
His manner was anything but monk-like.
Curious about his intentions, Shui Miao nodded and walked over with Xiao Tudou.
This hotel belonged to Sun Hao’s territory, and the Southern sorcerer’s presence here likely meant Sun Hao had deliberately summoned them all to confront Han Baisheng together.
Walking beside Shui Miao, the monk whispered, “Boss Shui Miao, we were all summoned here by Manager Gao from the hotel. We plan to help you deal with Han Baisheng. He’s heading to Yanbei District today to worship a thousand-year-old female ghost. Do you know about this, Boss Shui Miao?”
“…”
Shui Miao’s heart skipped a beat and he quickly shook his head.
He couldn’t help but recall that the female ghost who had appeared that night might be connected to Han Baisheng!
If that were true, things would become far more complicated.
The monk continued, “Boss Shui Miao, don’t worry. We have our own ways to deal with that thousand-year-old female ghost.”
Upon hearing this, Shui Miao was startled again. He couldn’t help but wonder—this monk had no spiritual power at all, yet he spoke so confidently. Was he planning to talk the ghost to death?
They arrived at the sofa area, where the Taoist priest and the Nanyang sorcerer both stood up.
The Taoist priest looked exactly the same as before, unchanged in appearance.
But the Nanyang sorcerer had changed. He wore plain, ordinary clothes, no longer carrying any jars or vials.
“Boss Shui Miao, I’m An Kui, from Nanyang,” the sorcerer bowed respectfully, greeting Shui Miao first.
Shui Miao gave a slight nod.
“Daoist humble title is Shanyang. Pleased to meet you, senior Daoist brother,” the old Taoist priest looked at Shui Miao and suddenly his eyes lit up. He couldn’t determine Shui Miao’s cultivation level, but he sensed a unique aura radiating from him.
As soon as Shanyang spoke, Shui Miao realized he was no ordinary person. He judged people not by age but by ability, and his vision and mindset already surpassed those of ordinary people.
Despite his advanced age, Shanyang addressed Shui Miao as senior Daoist brother, which greatly surprised the monk and the sorcerer.
Shui Miao smiled slightly and returned the greeting, “Master Shanyang, your eyes are truly sharp. However, since you are older, I should respectfully address you as senior Daoist brother as well. Also, although I do cultivate, I haven’t formally joined any Daoist sect, so perhaps we should keep our titles more casual.”
“I see, fair enough!”
Master Shanyang nodded in understanding.
Shui Miao invited everyone to sit down. The monk smiled and said, “Didn’t expect Boss Shui Miao to be a cultivator as well. My apologies for not knowing earlier. My Buddhist name is Wuneng…” He even felt embarrassed saying his own name.
“…”
Shui Miao nodded slightly at Wuneng, not wanting to know more about him. He asked directly, “You all were invited by Han Baisheng, right? Why are you now helping me instead?”
“That scoundrel Han Baisheng looked down on us!” Wuneng immediately blurted out.
But then he realized that as a monk, such words were unseemly, so he quickly shut his mouth.
The Nanyang sorcerer was straightforward, replying bluntly, “He insulted me. I want him to pay the price.”
As for Master Shanyang, he gently shook his head and smiled faintly, “I originally wanted to make a friend in cultivation, but now I see that before you, I’m like someone showing off sword skills in front of Guan Yu—overestimating myself, overestimating myself indeed!”
“Master Shanyang is too humble!”
Shui Miao looked at Master Shanyang with curiosity. “Master Shanyang, you are clearly a high-level cultivator. Why are you here? Could it be because of financial difficulties in rebuilding your temple?” Among the three, only Master Shanyang was worth befriending. The monk Wuneng was clearly a useless glutton, not worth asking about. As for the Nanyang sorcerer, his aura was filled with sinister energy—he was not someone worth associating with.
“Senior Daoist brother, you flatter me. Indeed, it is due to this very issue,” Master Shanyang said with some embarrassment.
Shui Miao nodded. “I’m willing to fund your project. How much do you need, Master Shanyang?”
“T-Ten thousand!”
Master Shanyang’s expression was complex. He desperately needed a large sum of money—the old temple was in disrepair and lacked everything, and he had more than a dozen homeless children to feed. Ten thousand yuan was barely enough. But since he hadn’t done anything to help Shui Miao yet, he felt too ashamed to ask for more.
Shui Miao licked his lips, sensing Master Shanyang’s predicament. He nodded and said, “How about this—I’ll have Jiang Zhihao send someone over right away to give you one million yuan. If that’s not enough, let me know. We are all cultivators; we should help each other. No need to be polite. I’ll make the call right now…”
For some unknown reason, Shui Miao suddenly felt a strange sense that helping Master Shanyang was, in a way, helping himself.
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