Imprisoned Souls, a Miasmic Place

Master spoke domineeringly into the phone.

But Luo Jianhua's voice on the other end sounded somewhat panicked:

"Song... Corpse Head Song, what happened? Why are you so angry?"

Master snorted coldly:

"Damn it, I was eating roasted whole lamb on Compassion Mountain and nearly got ambushed by several Black Monks.

I, Song Decai, have roamed the martial world for years. How could I swallow such an insult?"

Luo Jianhua had also worked as an investigator in the Secret Bureau.

The moment he heard "Black Monks," he was shocked as well:

"What? Black Monks? That's the Evil Buddhist Cult! This is a major incident, Corpse Head Song. Can you confirm it?"

"Bullshit. Would I be calling you if I wasn't sure?"

Luo Jianhua sharply sucked in a breath on the other end:

"This is a Class A cult organization. I'll report it immediately and make arrangements at once. Song, you must capture them all and leave survivors—"

Before he could finish, Master hung up.

I drove all the way up along the mountain road.

There were plenty of signs along the roadside, so there was no chance of taking a wrong turn.

Twenty minutes later, we finally saw the temple at the mountaintop—Compassion Temple!

When we reached the summit, we passed a massive natural boulder.

Buddhist scriptures and carvings of Buddha were engraved upon it.

Past the boulder was a parking lot.

At its entrance stood the sedan that had blocked my car earlier. There was no mistaking it.

Beyond the parking lot was the temple.

I parked directly in front of the temple gates and got out.

But the moment I stepped out, I felt cold—a bone-chilling cold.

There was not the slightest sense of peace or serenity. Instead, I felt an unpleasant, repulsive discomfort.

There was a saying: a