Monk Mu listened quietly and patiently. There was no curiosity on his face, nor did he ask questions, but it made people want to tell him more involuntarily.

When the old man finally took a breath and stopped, he nodded and spoke.

"Where is your son?" he asked.

The old man's cheerful face dimmed and he looked deep into the morning mist.

...

...

The sun rises, the mist disperses, and a temple on the highest point of the hill appears between heaven and earth.

The colorful flags fluttered in the wind, and the incense smoke on the temple seemed to be endless.

This incense comes from a huge incense burner in front of the temple, which is full of fragrant wax.

The old man took out a handful of incense from the cow dung frame and threw it in. Following the rising smoke, he shouted: "Yangdan'er, I'm here to see you."

The cigarette swayed in the wind, and the old man smiled with satisfaction, as if he had received a response.

"My son's name is inside." He said to the wooden monk standing next to him. "One wall inside is full of names, and the names of the soldiers who died in the battle are all engraved on it. In addition to us coming to worship, the government also worships regularly.

Plenty of incense.”

He laughed again when he said this.

"I don't know if my Yang Dan will become a god in heaven or if he will be born into a good fetus."

Monk Mu walked past the curls of cigarettes, stepped up the steps, and walked into the temple. He faced a dark wall with dense red characters on it. They were names one after another, some with first names and surnames, and some with only first names.

There is no surname, and some do not have serious names. They are just casual nicknames. Even though they are nicknames, they are also engraved on them...

The red characters on the black wall rushed over in a condescending manner. Monk Mu closed his eyes.

"...Master, you can stay here. Although this is not a temple, there is incense, and you can chant sutras to save these warriors." The old man's voice sounded in his ears, filled with joy.

Monk Mu opened his eyes and looked at him: "Your son is dead, why are you still so happy?"

The old man was startled and smiled: "Because my son died well. Although he died, he allowed more people to live, so that me and his wife and children could have something to support. In this troubled world, if it weren't for that time,

If a soldier dies, he dies. How could he be as glorious as he is now?"

Saying this, he sighed softly.

"Mrs. Chu Guo is really a fairy."
Chapter completed!