The lake scenery was delightful, naturally drawing many visitors to admire it. Elderly people sat leisurely on the benches by the shore, their faces kind as they watched the children at play. As for the young men and women, they were busy taking photographs.

Of course, there were also some kind souls scattering various feeds to nourish the flying birds and some adorable animals. For a moment, humans and animals coexisted peacefully, creating an atmosphere full of harmony.

Seeing this, Wang Guan also curiously took out some money to buy breadcrumbs, attracting a few pigeons to peck at them. Gazing at the plump, clean white pigeons, he fell into a momentary daze.

With so many delicious ingredients, he wondered if steaming or braising them would be better?

"Flutter-flutter!"

In that instant, a flock of pigeons took flight. It wasn't because the animals sensed Wang Guan's ill intent, but simply because they had finished the crumbs and, drawn by the yin of other tourists, naturally flew off to another spot.

Man dies for wealth, and birds die for food. Wang Guan couldn't help but feel a pang of sentiment; these pigeons surely wouldn't live long. Not by being hunted down, but by being spoiled to death.

Constantly fed, these pigeons must have lost their ability to forage, and the presence of pigeon houses in this wooded area clearly indicated they were well cared for. However, countless cruel examples had shown that not only humans are born in hardship and die in comfort, but animals are much the same.

Eating and drinking like this every day, these pigeons lived a life more comfortable than many humans. Their bodies were undoubtedly obese, and their physiological functions must have deteriorated; it would be strange if they lived long.

"What a waste."

Thinking this, Wang Guan couldn't help but shake his head. Such tender pigeons should rightfully end up in a pot; letting them die comfortably like this was a true sacrilege.

Of course, as a civilized person, some thoughts were best kept internal and not broadcasted. What distinguishes humans as noble or vulgar? It's because some things can be thought, but not done.

So, Wang Guan could only watch the white doves, suppressing his inner craving no matter how much his mouth watered, maintaining a warm and amiable smile on the surface, even asking Fang Mingsheng to take a few pictures as a memento.

"Is there something else in the small grove?" At the same time, Wang Guan felt curious. "It seems quite a few people are heading inside."

"There's a small chapel in there," Fang Mingsheng replied casually. "It was supposedly built by some hermit monks long, long ago; it's already a thousand years old."

Those so-called hermit monks were, in essence, deviants.

Well, perhaps that word was disrespectful to hermits, but to ordinary people, they were certainly worthy of respect, though their practices were surely unacceptable. To express their faith in the Lord, they willingly abandoned comfortable lives, refused offerings from others, and chose to live austerely deep in the mountains or desolate villages.

Legend had it that these hermit monks ate only once a day—a piece of black bread and just a sip of water. Through such starvation and self-denial, they aimed to temper their bodies for the sake of spiritual transcendence.

Whether it was the Western hermit monks or the Eastern ascetic monks, despite people not fully grasping their methods, they were invariably held in high esteem. After all, compared to the priests and bishops living extravagantly in luxurious monasteries, the actions of the hermits bordered on sainthood; there was every reason to be impressed.

Even today, Westerners still believe in God and are quite devout. But their belief is often just that—a mere faith—and they don't necessarily treat religious figures with exceptional favor. Perhaps out of respect for God, they show deference to the clergy, but expecting them to empty their coffers to fund lavish lifestyles for the clergy as in the Middle Ages would be pure fantasy.

However, people generally hold the spiritually striving hermit monks in higher reverence, otherwise, they wouldn't specifically come here to visit and admire their dwelling.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Since everyone else was visiting, Wang Guan was naturally curious to see if the place where the hermits once practiced was as harsh as described in literature.

With that thought, Wang Guan called out and headed into the depths of the small grove. Fang Mingsheng certainly didn't object and followed along. Moments later, the two arrived in the wooded area and immediately spotted a very rudimentary structure.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed less like a building and more like a lean-to, a shed constructed from logs and thatch. The structure looked reasonably stable, but it barely offered shelter from wind and rain; comfort was out of the question. Frankly speaking, even the nearby pigeon houses were superior to this shack.

Witnessing this, both men couldn't help but sigh with emotion, especially Fang Mingsheng. Although his religious beliefs were eclectic—he subscribed to most of the top global religions on Earth—seeing the hermits' abode instantly instilled in him deep reverence. For a moment, the knot of worry in his heart loosened slightly; if there had been incense and candles nearby, he might have immediately lit them in homage.

But then again, if Fang Mingsheng had dared to burn incense here, he probably would have been chased away instantly. Their religion didn't involve incense burning; such random acts would mark him as a heretic. Being driven off would have been the mildest outcome; in the Middle Ages, the Inquisition might have been deployed.

"Wang..."

Just as the two were standing there, deeply moved while observing the dilapidated shack, a man's voice suddenly called out from nearby. The voice sounded somewhat familiar, and Wang Guan quickly looked over, only to be stunned.

"Mr. Anderson?" Wang Guan expressed genuine surprise.

At that moment, accompanied by a few individuals, Mr. Anderson walked over with a smiling face, his expression also showing unexpected delight. "Wang, what are you doing here?"

Before Wang Guan could answer, Fang Mingsheng's face changed dramatically, and he exclaimed in surprise, "Hill..."

"What?" Wang Guan froze and quickly glanced over. Behind Mr. Anderson stood a middle-aged man with slightly curly hair and a beautifully trimmed mustache.

At this moment, the man looked slightly embarrassed, but the expression quickly settled into one of calm composure. He then broke into a warm, friendly smile, greeting Fang Mingsheng with enthusiasm and even giving him a hug.

In that instant, Wang Guan expected Fang Mingsheng to become hostile and push the man away. Unexpectedly, while Fang Mingsheng initially showed some resistance, Wang Guan also noticed a critical detail: the man whispered something in Fang Mingsheng's ear, causing him to immediately become compliant.

Perhaps "compliant" isn't the right word, but Wang Guan clearly saw from the side that Fang Mingsheng's demeanor had indeed shifted; the face that should have been grim now wore a polite smile.

"What made Fang Mingsheng let go of his anger?" Wang Guan found it baffling.

Undoubtedly, this man was the owner of the castle, Mr. Hill, the very person Fang Mingsheng had intended to visit. Moreover, his appearance here, after the gatekeeper claimed he wasn't present at the castle...

Although strictly speaking, Mr. Hill was out and not in the castle, which was technically true, a closer look revealed this was an excuse deliberately crafted to mislead. Further deduction suggested that a mere gatekeeper wouldn't dare dismiss a guest without the master's instruction.

Therefore, Mr. Hill was the mastermind behind the closed-door snub.

Wang Guan couldn't believe Fang Mingsheng hadn't grasped such a simple truth, which made him all the more astonished at how easily he had "forgiven" Mr. Hill...

As Wang Guan watched in bewilderment, Mr. Anderson also looked slightly confused. "Wang, you know Mr. Hill too? Are you here specifically to visit him?"

"...Sort of," Wang Guan replied.

Seeing Fang Mingsheng and Mr. Hill seemingly "reconciled," Wang Guan decided not to disrupt the peace. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Are you here to visit Mr. Hill as well, Mr. Anderson? Did you arrive yesterday?"

"No, no..."

Mr. Anderson shook his head and chuckled. "This is my first time visiting Mr. Hill; I came along with a friend."

"A friend?" Wang Guan was startled, then looked toward the group. Among the several people present, one individual stood out from the crowd, possessing an extraordinary air that drew immediate attention. The man appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, dressed in a well-fitting suit, radiating the charm of a mature man...

Of course, that wasn't the main point. The key was that this person didn't look like a Western Caucasian. His thick, dark eyebrows, meticulously trimmed beard, high nose bridge, and slightly sallow skin gave him an inexplicably familiar feel.

"Wang, allow me to introduce you."

Mr. Anderson smiled. "This is Prince Abdul from Saudi Arabia..."

"A Saudi Prince?"

Wang Guan paused for a brief moment, then a sense of sudden understanding washed over him. He finally grasped why Fang Mingsheng and Mr. Hill had so abruptly "made up"—they clearly didn't want to cause a rift in front of the Saudi Prince.

Saudi Arabia was a nation literally flowing with oil wealth. As the world's largest oil exporter, against the backdrop of soaring oil prices, the status of a Saudi Prince guaranteed influence anywhere.

Although the Saudi royal family has always been shrouded in mystery to outsiders, it is widely known that royal members control the cabinet and hold key positions in the oil, military, and police departments. Their level of wealth undoubtedly far surpasses that of the British Queen.

After all, the British Queen is merely a monarch in name, holding no real executive power, but the Saudi royal family is different; they skillfully leverage wealth and royal lineage to weave intricate webs of connections among global political and business elites.

On this point, Yu Feibai could certainly attest.

During a casual conversation one time, he had boasted to Wang Guan about knowing several Saudi princes and princesses. Although Wang Guan hadn't believed him at the time, he inwardly conceded that Yu Feibai likely wasn't lying. China's demand for oil was already the second highest in the world, second only to the United States. With an ever-increasing thirst for oil, it would be strange if they weren't fostering good relations with Saudi Arabia.

Given Yu Feibai's status, it wasn't unusual for him to meet one or two Saudi princes at certain banquets. Besides, Saudi princes are notoriously numerous, with incomplete statistics suggesting over three thousand; knowing a few was perfectly normal.

After all, knowing someone and being familiar with them are two entirely different matters...RS