Mo Xie could only tease the Holy Book spiritually, and then achieve a psychological victory.

Such things did not stop until the moment he set foot on the land of SD City.

Get out of the car and blend in with the most crowded areas.

Mo Ye took out something.

That thing looks like a thermometer, but it's not a thermometer, it's a "blood concentration test needle" that costs 500 points to redeem from the Holy Scripture.

Of course, this kind of low-level item doesn't need to be so expensive, but the cheaper one needs to really take someone else's blood to use it.

However, this tester is much more convenient, just inject your own blood and it will work like a compass.

The tip of the needle points to the person who is related to the person.

Mo Xie had verified it at the beginning, otherwise he would not have set foot in SD City.

The hand turns at a different angle, and then stays still—which is also inaccurate, for there are occasional slight turns, but not by a small margin.

The pointer points to the west.

Is the beginning of this life the direction of the pointer?

……

Bluestone roads are rare, and the only places where they can survive are temples and monuments.

This is an ancient temple with sparse incense.

Most people in this era have lost their faith, and Buddhist temples and Taoist temples will only visit when they are ashamed and have spare money and time.

However, Mo Xie did not feel ashamed in his heart, but there was a chaotic emotion.

He couldn't tell whether he was expecting or angry, anxious or irritable, he couldn't take a step for a while.

The facts are right in front of you, just go in and follow the pointer to find out the guy.

Instructed Mo Xie to be unable to do it.

"Daytime is not the time. ”

He convinced himself and turned away.

There is no shortage of inns near the temple, and I don't know if it's just for pilgrims.

However, Mo Ye quickly came to a conclusion.

No.

Because he saw three monks in the lobby of a hotel, monks in yellow robes. They were oily-headed, pot-bellied, and had the kind of smile on their faces that had received some kind of satisfaction.

They're going through the check-out process.

Mo Ye's heart sank.

It's not like he's never seen anything like this, but he shuddered at the thought that the person he was related to by blood was one of these people.

The word "cold" may not be used very accurately, but I really can't find a better word without too much derogatory connotation.

He looked at the figures of the three "masters", and he didn't know how much effort it took to turn around.

He changed from one hotel to another, to a shabby, shabby inn that the "masters" would never stay in.

The boss and the waiter added up to no more than three people, and the proprietress sitting behind the counter looked at the young man in front of her with a tentative gaze.

There was a musty smell in the small hotel, and Mo Xie knew that it should be the product of mopping the floor with a wet mop for many years.

The floors here have lost their luster, revealing their rough nature.

"Alone?" asked the proprietress tentatively, spreading out a notebook on the wooden counter.

The book is old.,The pages are yellowed.,It's just that this yellowed book is only halfway written.。

"Yes. "Mo Ye is not in the mood, so he tries to speak as little as possible, and even if he speaks, he is saving words.

His voice was weak, and he didn't have the same vigor as when he got into the car.

He knew that he didn't know so much that he didn't want to know his background.

He already had a very bad conjecture in his heart, but he didn't want to believe it until he saw the final result, and he didn't even want to think about it.

His mind was in a trance—he was a man whose mental strength was about to break a thousand......

The hostess asked him something he couldn't remember, it was like a fragment of memory, and by the time he came back to his senses, he had been taken to the guest room.

He sat on the bed with a key in his hand.

The rooms are simple, as simple as a bed, a lamp, a wardrobe, a chair, no bathroom, not even a kettle and teacups.

Mo Xie is a felon who has been banished—a felon who has been banished by himself.

The human world is like a huge prison, where is it not the same?

Mo Xie suddenly thought of this sentence.

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The sunset here seemed to come very slowly, and the red light of the setting sun was projected from the window of Mo Ye's room onto the floor, dying inch by inch, like the clothes of a young man who was nostalgic for the glitz of mortal dust and did not want to go to the empty door.

Mo Xie sat cross-legged on the bed, trying his best to calm his spirit.

In fact, he can call on the dark side to go through this experience, the dark side is always calm, but he feels that he should do it himself.

Not everything can be done by others, not even the other self.

The last rays of the sunset had not yet dissipated, and Mo Xie couldn't bear to go out.

He was going to go out to eat something, kill some time casually, and wait until it was completely dark before going up the hill and entering the temple.

There are not many people on the street, there are more hotels here, and there are many fewer restaurants, the two are completely disproportionate, and most of the restaurants are small, and five or six broken tables in one room are good facades.

Their guests are always less than five or six tables.

"Boss, come to a bowl of noodles. Mo Ye poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the innermost position.

He would have preferred the street position if he had been, but now he didn't want to sit in that position.

He would rather never have been to this street, this place, so that he would not know what kind of people his parents were or what kind of people he was mixed with.

No one can really get out of the mud without staining, only people will get drunk in the mud and be covered in filth.

The face was very fast, Mo Ye had used his mental power to probe before coming in, and the owner of this shop was a middle-aged man, thin and thin.

The boss is also a cook, and it is his son who collects the money and orders, about twenty years old, with a pair of eyes constantly staring at the bright lights outside.

When the lights are on, the "businessmen" who are inconvenient to come out during the day are liberated, and they are dressed up in fancy clothes, or sit behind the shop windows, or stand in the streets.

Mo Xie turned his back to the street and didn't mean he couldn't see, just that he didn't want to see it.

Could this be the source of his life?