Actually, when Madam Tang first ushered in those powerful bosses, Wang Guan and his group were already waiting in the room adjacent to the Abbot’s quarters, and they had even participated in the Dharma service presided over by the Monk of Banshan, though no one paid them any attention.

At this moment, the discussion centered on the matter of the fragrance.

Everyone present knew about the Sumeru Incense, having experienced its presence personally, so they were well aware of its characteristics, which naturally made the current situation even more peculiar.

Following Old Man Qian’s suggestion, Wang Guan handed the bead over to the Monk of Banshan, requesting a renewed consecration and blessing to stabilize its magnetic field.

No one had anticipated such an anomaly occurring during the Dharma service.

Piqu Qiu was deeply perplexed. “Brother, something feels off. Didn't we used to only smell the fragrance when we held the bead? How come everyone can smell it now?”

“I don’t know.”

Wang Guan shook his head slightly, then mused thoughtfully, “Perhaps it’s the magnetic field’s influence. The chanting of the scriptures and the sounds of the ritual instruments during the service intertwined, creating a resonance with the Sumeru Incense, which resulted in this effect. That’s why the fragrance vanished immediately after the service ended.”

“That makes sense.” The Monk of Banshan strongly agreed. “A treasure of Buddhism naturally complements a Buddhist Dharma service.”

As he spoke, the Monk of Banshan smiled faintly. “Benefactor Wang…”

“Stop right there!” Wang Guan rolled his eyes instantly. “You don’t need to say anything more. You can borrow the item for a while longer, but I must take it back afterward; it cannot remain at Banshan Temple long-term.”

The Monk of Banshan was naturally somewhat disappointed upon hearing this, but he still offered his thanks.

“No need to thank me. I think your most pressing concern right now isn't coveting my Sumeru Incense, but rather seriously planning how to deal with the continuous stream of incense visitors you’ll receive.” Wang Guan chuckled. “Lest you become flustered and leave a bad impression on the pilgrims.”

“That’s absolutely correct.” Madam Tang wholeheartedly concurred. “After witnessing today’s excitement, those visitors will certainly spread the word—one tells ten, ten tell a hundred—inviting friends and acquaintances to come and see. Tomorrow’s crowd might double, and the day after, perhaps increase by several more percentage points. I estimate that for the first half-month after the temple opens, it will be anything but quiet here.”

Time proved Madam Tang’s estimate to be correct, though with slight deviations. Her prediction that the numbers would double the next day underestimated the public's inherent curiosity.

This was the internet age, where information traveled with great speed and convenience. Among those who visited the temple today were quite a few young people. Upon seeing the Xuande Censer, they immediately took photos with their phones and uploaded them online.

At first, some people found the Xuande Censer vaguely familiar. After a moment’s thought, they realized it was the same item displayed alongside the Jiaowei Zither! After all, that item had caused a stir for a while, leaving some impression. Later, the item disappeared, and people stopped paying attention. Therefore, at first glance, these users assumed the post was old, someone had dug it up, and reflexively tried to close the page.

But taking a second look, they were astonished to discover that this was a new post from today.

“Are they trying to revive an old story?” A few curious individuals didn't close the page but instead browsed the post carefully. Only after reading did they realize the thread was promoting feudal superstition.

“What feudal superstition? This is absolutely real. Pictures don’t lie!”

“Who knows if it’s Photoshopped?”

“Photoshopped your backside!” A heated argument immediately drew the attention of many others.

Simultaneously, numerous other posts began to surface, with nearly identical content. However, the angles of the photographs differed, and the user IDs were distinct. Some belonged to frequently active, established accounts, which naturally lent them more credibility.

For a time, there was widespread commotion, and some people even arranged to go and see the spectacle for themselves. If it were true, they could enjoy the excitement; if it were false, they could debunk it.

Thus, on the second day, not only did nearby villagers continue to come to burn incense and pray, but many young people with cameras slung around their necks also arrived. Their purpose was not devotion but to investigate the truth of the matter.

Upon arrival, however, these young people discovered that the environment of Banshan Temple was even more beautiful than described online, and the magnificent quality of the large censer was beyond description, especially the phenomenon of the smoke transforming into lotus blossoms, which left many people speechless.

Seeing this, some individuals immediately took unedited photos and uploaded them online, which naturally caused a sensation. If a few people faked something, it might be understandable, but there was no reason for a whole group to conspire to lie. Of course, some people remained skeptical, but since the posters swore on everything, most people chose to believe it. The few who didn't believe it decided to go check it out personally.

This created a virtuous cycle, much to the joy and simultaneous suffering of the monks at Banshan Temple.

Banshan Temple's popularity surged through this cycle. Suddenly, people from all corners of the country knew about this temple in the distant suburbs of the capital. Whether its incense offerings were flourishing or its deities were effective remained unknown, but it had become extremely famous. If it weren't for news management regulations restricting extensive coverage of such matters, Banshan Temple would surely have made the front pages of the news.

However, online buzz remained just that—buzz. Apart from netizens living nearby who had money, free time, and abundant curiosity coming to see the excitement, what truly packed Banshan Temple was word-of-mouth reputation. Through this oral tradition, not only did local citizens flock to the temple, but several wealthy bosses also drove their cars to the foot of Banshan Temple daily.

In addition to burning incense and praying, these wealthy bosses were also assessing the potential of this project. If the potential was significant enough, they were eager to participate. Madam Tang welcomed this, reasoning that many hands make light work; the more people involved, the bigger the pie could become.

Furthermore, it wasn't just wealthy bosses showing interest. Some clever nearby villagers, noticing the continuous flow of visitors to the temple, began running small businesses, setting up stalls at the foot of the mountain selling cheap trinkets. Using the guise of having their items blessed and consecrated by the temple masters, their business fared quite well.

Observing this situation prompted those wealthy bosses to firm up their decisions, negotiating with Madam Tang to lease some plots of land or storefronts. This not only accelerated the progress of the project construction but also put the venture on the path to recouping costs before it even officially opened for business. Of course, all of this was a story for later.

At this point, after spending two or three days at Banshan Temple and inspecting the construction site, Wang Guan returned directly to the manor. Just as he was about to discuss his observations at the temple with Old Man Qian, he suddenly entered the living room to find a streak of dazzling light piercing his eyes, causing him to break out in a cold sweat of alarm.

Fortunately, it was just a false alarm; the blinding white light flashed past harmlessly. Simultaneously, Wang Guan heard a triumphant laugh, which sounded somewhat familiar. He quickly steadied himself and saw Yu Feibai holding a weapon, grinning at him with an expression that begged to be punched. In an instant, Wang Guan felt a sense of helplessness. The slight annoyance he had felt vanished, replaced by exasperation. “I knew it was you, you scoundrel…”

“Huh!” Wang Guan immediately reacted with pleasant surprise. “Weren’t you out at sea? When did you get back?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you wishing I wouldn't come back?” Yu Feibai pouted, then adopted a smug expression. “I got back last night. I was planning to give you all a surprise…”

“It felt less like a surprise and more like a fright,” Wang Guan said, hesitating slightly. “So, did you return laden with treasure, or did you fail to find anything and, unable to bear the loneliness, just came back?”

“What do you think?” Yu Feibai sounded displeased. “Do I look like someone who gives up halfway?”

“Yes, you do. Very much so.” Wang Guan nodded without hesitation, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “If you don’t believe me, ask Old Man Qian.”

“Get lost, stop hiding behind his reputation.” Yu Feibai snorted, flicked his weapon, and under the glare of the sun, the snow-white light reflected off it, exuding an aura of sharp, aggressive readiness.

Seeing this, Wang Guan took a closer look at the weapon in Yu Feibai's hand, intrigued. “That sword of yours… it looks quite significant.”

“Heh heh, you noticed?” Yu Feibai became even more smug, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Hmph, don’t think you can just show off with your Great Xia Dragon Sparrow Blade and Dragon Scale Dagger; the precious sword in my hand isn't to be trifled with either.”

“I wasn't showing off,” Wang Guan shook his head. Seeing Yu Feibai waving the sharp sword around, Wang Guan felt uneasy and deliberately walked in a semicircle to sit beside Old Man Qian, quietly asking, “What kind of sword is that?”

“A treasure sword, a pattern-welded steel sword.” Before Old Man Qian could answer, Yu Feibai preempted him. “An ancient famous sword, absolutely no less significant than the Great Xia Dragon Sparrow Blade.”

“Whoosh!” Before he finished speaking, to prove he wasn't lying, Yu Feibai swung his arm. The sword flashed like lightning, slicing through the air with a slight, sharp whistle, and cleanly severed the straw mat lying nearby. Looking at the cut edge of the mat, it was perfectly flat and smooth, demonstrating the incredible sharpness of the blade.

“How about that?” Yu Feibai stood tall and proud. “Let me tell you the truth: this was the personal weapon of the great pirate chief, Wang Zhi. It has seen plenty of combat; it's a real fighting weapon, much better than that flashy piece of junk you call the Great Xia Dragon Sparrow Blade.”

“Oh?” Wang Guan’s interest piqued immediately. “Let me see it.”

“Here, take it.” Yu Feibai slid the sword back into its sheath and handed it over haughtily, warning, “This sword isn’t light; don't drop it on your foot.”

“It certainly is heavy.” Taking the sword, Wang Guan immediately realized Yu Feibai wasn't lying; the item did possess considerable weight. Judging by its heft, this sword likely belonged to the heavy sword category, better suited for chopping attacks, possessing considerable destructive power.

While contemplating this, Wang Guan drew the sword from its scabbard to examine it closely. The sword was over three chi long. Silver light flowed and shimmered across the blade, reminiscent of lingering moonlight or a clear flowing stream, imbued with a unique aesthetic beauty. After observing it for a moment, Wang Guan mused, “These markings look somewhat familiar.”

“Nonsense, of course they look familiar. This is Song Pattern steel—the Song Pattern Ancient Sword…” As he spoke, Yu Feibai announced proudly, “It is the Song Pattern Sword mentioned in Shen Kuo’s Dream Pool Essays; in the Song Dynasty, it was also called the Coiled Steel Sword!”