Han stood before the abbot of Mountain Waters Temple and was struck by his appearance. Unlike the stereotypical image of an elderly, solemn monk, this abbot was a refined young man in his twenties, more like a scholar than a monk.

“I am Neng Wu,” the abbot introduced himself calmly. “What business brings you here, patron?”

“I came seeking your help, Master Abbot,” Han replied earnestly.

The abbot studied Han briefly before saying, “You’re a martial artist, aren’t you? If this is about vengeance or feuds, I regret to inform you that I cannot assist. Please take your leave.”

Han was surprised. Neng Wu clearly wasn’t a martial artist himself, yet he had discerned Han’s background with precision.

Was this the result of true spiritual cultivation? Or perhaps the abbot’s martial prowess was simply so advanced that Han couldn’t perceive it.

“I assure you, Master Abbot, I’m not here to involve you in mundane affairs,” Han explained. “But the matter I’ve encountered cannot be solved by martial strength alone.”

“And what is it you’ve encountered?”

“Abbot, I believe I’ve seen a ghost.”

Neng Wu chuckled softly and shook his head. “Martial artists possess robust vitality and an abundance of yang energy. No spirit would dare approach you. Besides, ghosts and spirits are but figments of imagination. You mustn’t take such things seriously.”

“I’m not imagining it,” Han insisted. He recounted his recent experiences, vividly describing his unsettling encounter. “Master Abbot, I am convinced it was real. Do you have any way to help me?”

The abbot seemed unshaken and replied, “You might consider purchasing a consecrated artifact. It could bring you peace of mind.”

Shortly after, Han was presented with the so-called "artifact"—a plain, ordinary string of prayer beads. It was hardly the powerful item Han had hoped for; it seemed more like a token to calm one’s nerves than a genuine tool against supernatural forces.

Beyond this, Neng Wu admitted he could offer no further assistance and promptly instructed other monks to escort Han out of the temple.

Frustrated, Han couldn’t decide whether Neng Wu truly possessed spiritual abilities. Even Bai Ruoyue and the others couldn’t confirm if the temple housed any true Daoist practitioners.

Asking Neng Wu directly would be pointless. After all, the Mountain Waters Temple had been operating for six years in Black Cloud Town, and there had never been rumors of its abbot being a cultivator. To outright question him would be akin to walking up to a stranger on the street and accusing them of espionage.

Han sighed. If this temple didn’t yield results, he might have no choice but to turn to his master for help.

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Just then, an idea struck him. Among his recently acquired items was the Qi-Perception Talisman.

The talisman would allow Han to discern the different types of qi—mortal qi, martial qi, and even cultivators’ qi. If he used it, he could finally determine if there were any hidden cultivators in the temple.

After weighing his options, Han decided it was worth using the talisman here. If this place indeed harbored secrets that could aid his cultivation, it would be a worthwhile investment.

Standing outside the temple, Han activated the Qi-Perception Talisman. His vision rippled, and the world around him transformed.

Various forms of qi became visible to his eyes.

Some people emanated pure white qi, a sign of good health. Others had grayish-white qi, indicating health problems.

Most of the couples visiting the temple had at least one partner with grayish-white qi.

“Infertility due to health issues?” Han speculated.

Yet, if their health was compromised, how could some of them conceive after visiting the temple? Could it truly be divine intervention, or was there some hidden Daoist technique at work?

Among the occasional visitors, Han observed those whose qi was predominantly white but tinged with pale blue or green—signs of wealth, status, or privilege. These individuals were clearly not here for fertility prayers.

It made sense; wealthy or influential families would have the resources to address infertility without resorting to temple visits.

The talisman not only revealed these insights but also directly conveyed their meanings to Han—such was the power of a true spiritual tool.

After observing passersby for some time, Han turned his gaze toward the temple itself.

What he saw shocked him.

Five distinct streams of blood-red qi, each condensed into vague beast-like forms, drifted within the temple grounds.

These were the qi of martial artists.

But more striking was a stream of soft blue qi, faintly human-shaped, emanating from none other than Neng Wu himself.

This was the qi of a cultivator, its form and hue reflecting the visualization technique he practiced.

However, Han’s attention quickly shifted to something even more disturbing.

In the rear courtyard of the temple, where the couples seeking children stayed overnight, a massive cloud of pink qi billowed and lingered.

Han’s body felt an inexplicable heat as he stared at it.

It was unmistakable—the qi of desire and lust.

How could such an overwhelming presence of lustful qi exist in a Buddhist temple?

The scale of this qi cloud suggested it wasn’t the product of one or two individuals over a short period. Lustful qi, if left unchecked, would normally dissipate. The fact that it persisted indicated it was being replenished constantly.

Han’s gaze hardened as he turned toward a couple exiting the temple.

The husband’s qi was pure white, while the wife’s was grayish-white—tinged with faint traces of pink that were quickly fading.

Curious, Han re-entered the temple to observe other couples who had stayed overnight. In every case, regardless of the wife’s original qi—grayish-white or pure white—there were residual traces of pink qi.

Passing by a couple, Han overheard their conversation.

“I hope we’re lucky this time. Mountain God and Dragon Lord, please bless us,” the husband pleaded.

“This is our third visit, yet we still haven’t been blessed,” the wife lamented. “That girl next door only needed one visit to conceive.”

“Our faith must not be strong enough,” the husband replied with a sigh.

As they walked away, Han’s eyes suddenly stung with searing pain, forcing him to stumble out of the temple.

Sitting by a nearby rock, he rested until the pain subsided. By the time he opened his eyes again, the effects of the Qi-Perception Talisman had worn off.

But the scene he had witnessed lingered in his mind.

The inconsistent “blessings” of the gods, the requirement for couples to stay overnight, the correlation between health issues and infertility…

And the overwhelming presence of lustful qi in the rear courtyard.

Mountain Waters Temple, a place lauded for its miraculous efficacy, harbored a sinister truth.

This wasn’t divine intervention.

It was human manipulation.