A hidden slave market on the outskirts of Mexico City, where hundreds of people sell every day, with children, daughters and wives, only you don't want to buy, nothing you can't buy.

Mo Yao walked down the street reluctantly, looking disgusted. Although the word personality will not appear in his life dictionary, he still rejects such a blatant violation of morality and ethics as putting people on the street like cattle and letting others choose and sell.

There was a faint hint of irritability in my heart.

Yes, irritation!

Damn the Mexican gangsters chose this kind of garbage site for the negotiations. The only entrance was blocked by a broken carriage, and his limousine was forced to stop outside, and he had to deign to walk on the ground. The ruined streets, the dirty pavement, and the rubble all over the ground made him feel like he was desecrating the handmade leather shoes on his feet that were made by famous Italian artists and were worth a lot of money.

Inadvertently glimpsed the dusty upper of his shoes, and the anger on Mo Yao's body became heavier.

Beiying followed closely step by step, not daring to fall behind. He has followed Mo Yao for many years, and his understanding of Mo Yao is even more than Mo Yao's understanding of himself, and this increasingly heavy anger Beiying naturally sees it in his eyes.

And in the face of this uncertain master, Beiying's consistent policy is to be silent.

A weak figure flashed in his eyes, and his hurried footsteps came to an abrupt halt. Beiying followed too closely and almost hit him head-on, but fortunately, he reacted quickly enough and stopped in time. Otherwise, with the master's current mood, he will definitely fly up and kick him away.

Mo Yao looked ahead, the thin little girl curled up in the corner. He looked like he was eighteen or nineteen years old, his clothes were torn and only covered the important parts of his body, his bare feet were hidden under his body, I don't know whether it was cold or scared, and his small body was shaking.

Under the eyes of Mo Yao, which had not changed for thousands of years, Beiying saw a flash of surprise like a flash in the pan, and in a moment, only endless withering remained.

The girl lowered her head, Mo Yao couldn't see her face clearly, barely controlled by her brain, and her hand was already reaching for the girl's chin, trying for her to raise her head to see her appearance clearly.

"Seventh Master." Out of instinct to protect his master, Beiying's hand stopped in front of Mo Yao. This is Mexico City, they have just taken over the turf and are ready to face retaliation from their opponents. He would not be naïve to think that he would choose such a place to negotiate just because the other party had special tastes.

Mo Yao naturally understood, and withdrew his outstretched hand. Just as she was about to turn away, the girl felt the sun on her body being obscured, and unconsciously raised her head.

In an instant, Mo Yao's heart was in turmoil, and the name that had been buried in his heart for a long time almost blurted out.

"What's your name?" Beiying asked first.

The girl looked at the two people in front of her with cold eyes, shrank back timidly, and did not answer.

"What's your name?" Mo Yao didn't have the patience of the Northern Shadow, and the exit was both a commanding tone. The girl looked at the man's cold face, her hugging body trembled even more, and a trembling voice squeezed out of her throat: "Chu Qiao." ”

"It wasn't her." Mo Yao laughed to himself. At that time, her family was tragically wiped out, from the 80-year-old to the baby of several months. On the day of the incident, he stood in front of her house and watched as the police loaded her into a body bag and carried her into a police car.

For many years, that scene seemed to be engraved into my mind, replaying it back and forth every sleepless night.