Please pull the trigger for this world one more time.

Mo Zian turned his head and found a man with graying hair who looked to be in his fifties.

"No donations here will exceed one silver dollar at a time." The other person approached with measured steps. "Please leave the remaining dollar for those who need it more."

"This is the first time I've heard of a temple complaining that the donations for incense are too much."

Mo Zian glanced at the other man with some curiosity, then stubbornly tossed two silver coins into the box. "This is for two people, right...? Old sir, why are you staring at me like that?"

The man opposite him shook his head and looked away: "Sorry, I was just a little surprised. I see."

"I see?" Mo Zian was taken aback, then asked thoughtfully, "Why do you say that?"

The man shook his head: "It's not the right time to talk about this now. I only have a partial view of some things. But if one day you feel confused about something, you can come here to find us."

By the way, on behalf of the goddess, I thank you for your generosity.

You're too kind.

Mo Zian nodded. He didn't intend to chat with the riddle-maker any longer, as it was probably pointless. Hearing the urging voice coming from within his consciousness again, Mo Zian said, "Then I'll take my leave."

"goodbye."

After Mo Zian left, Old Man Ji returned to the back hall, sat down at a table, and began reading scriptures.

A little while later.

"Old Master Ji, I've taken my godmother's pair of badges!"

The man didn't react at all, continuing to read the scriptures as if he hadn't heard anything.

"Hmph, ignoring me, I'm leaving!"

Once the aura behind him had completely disappeared, the man closed the scripture and shut his eyes. After a while, he let out a long sigh.

A priest in a blue robe entered the room and asked curiously, "Vice Priest, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Old Man Ji shook his head, "I just got fleeced."

……

the other side.

Mo Zian walked along the road he came from for quite a while before he finally encountered a passenger carriage.

I checked the time and it was already past 11:30. Following the driver's recommendation, we sat down at a small but clean steamed bun shop nearby.

There weren't many kinds of steamed buns: beef and scallion, vegetarian three delicacies, and chives and eggs. Of course, Mo Zian chose to eat the meat.

The owner picked out ten steaming hot meat buns from the steamer, arranged them on a rough porcelain plate, and served them to Mo Zian. He then served him a bowl of mixed bean porridge.

Mo Zian poured himself a small dish of vinegar from the vinegar bottle on the table, and then tore a small opening in a steamed bun with his chopsticks.

Instantly, the overflowing oil and the irresistible aroma of meat filled the air.

Water-filled buns are a specialty of Tianhe Port. Due to its prosperous trade, it attracts merchants from both the north and south of the empire. These water-filled buns are actually derived from the soup dumplings of the south of the empire.

Picking up a bun, taking a big bite, the rich broth was sucked up in one gulp, and the tender, savory beef filling released all its charm in the embrace of the soft dough. Before Mo Zian realized it, he had unknowingly eaten several.

After lunch, Mo Zian boarded the carriage again, leaned against the carriage wall, and slowly fell asleep.

In a dream.

Mo Zian stood in front of the still tightly closed old house door and kicked it several times but couldn't open it.

"Damn it!"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Damn you!!!"

……

"Hello, sir, we've arrived at Shichijoishi."

Mo Zian, who was dozing off in the carriage, suddenly woke up with a start—in his dream, Mo Zian cursed until his throat was dry, but the other party was still acting like a coward.

Mo Zian glanced at his pocket watch; it was almost 2 PM.

After paying the fare and stepping off the carriage, the first thing that came into Mo Zian's view was a "dead man" leaning against a huge stone slab, looking like a withered tree.

Apart from his chest still rising and falling slightly, Mo Zian could find no signs of him being alive.

Just as Mo Zian was about to walk over to take a look, he suddenly noticed several gazes behind him. Mo Zian suddenly turned around, his eyes flashing with murderous intent, which startled the guards behind him.

A leading soldier ignored Mo Zian's murderous intent and stepped forward.

He was slightly overweight and had a scraggly beard, but his steps were steady and solid. His collar insignia bore a full six shield badges—the highest rank a senior sergeant major could achieve among ordinary soldiers.

Mo Zian pointed to the person on the ground and asked first, "What happened?"

"Sigh, I smoked too much, and now I'm starving and broke. It's common in this area."

The sergeant major had a look of utter familiarity on his face. "See those reed beds across the river? A few of them often float out."

Mo Zian frowned and said, "Is opium trafficking so rampant in Tianhe Port?"

"They fight every year, and they still happen every year."

The sergeant shook his head helplessly. "Last year we just wiped out a huge gang, and several of our brothers were killed. Some of them were shills; it's impossible to guard against them all."

Mo Zian fell silent after hearing this, unsure how to respond.

The sergeant major sized up Mo Zi'an, glancing at the standard-issue sword at his waist: "Young man, you're 'a trained fighter,' aren't you? What brings you here?"

"I'm here on personal business," Mo Zian replied calmly. "I'm going to a small courtyard by the river where some orphans and homeless children live."

My classmate from military academy had some connections there and asked me for a favor.

"All right."

The sergeant nodded, then lowered his voice slightly, "If something happens, try not to use weapons. Most of them are pitiful and honest people."

The sergeant leaned closer and whispered, "It's the end of the year, and we'd like some peace and quiet in our area. Think of it as saving the brothers some trouble, okay?"

Mo Zian readily agreed, "Of course, I am a soldier, and it is my duty to fight on the front lines. How could I possibly target innocent civilians?"

Then, Mo Zian asked with some doubt, "Who dares to attack me?"

"Hey, when you're cornered and starving, you'll even bite the King of Heaven." The sergeant seemed pleased to see Mo Zian agree. "The little courtyard you're looking for is easy to find. Just head towards the river and then follow the river south."

"Okay, thank you, goodbye."

"goodbye."

After exchanging greetings, Mo Zian stepped into this place called "Seven Stones".

The seven huge stone blocks seemed to form a dividing line.

On one side of the dividing line is the bustling Tianhe Port, while on the other side is a completely unrelated place.

What comes into view is a mixed area of ​​dilapidated low-rise brick houses and shantytowns, with no roads, or rather, almost no decent roads at all.

The ground here is almost entirely black mud, but since it's winter now, the mud is frozen solid. It's not hard to imagine what it will look like in the spring.

Not far along, a drunkard dressed in tattered clothes, carrying a bottle of liquor, appeared unsteadily from another intersection.

He tripped over a half-brick and fell to the ground. The spot where he fell was a rather steep downhill slope, and the drunk man rolled directly towards the river.

Mo Zian took a few quick steps, stretched out a foot to stop the drunkard from rolling down, but did nothing more, letting the drunkard lie on the ground.

After walking a few more steps, a woman who looked to be in her thirties was buttoning her clothes and walking in a certain direction. Her face was a little flushed, and she was clutching a wad of banknotes in her hand.

After walking a little further in, a boy carrying a tattered ball pushed open his family's broken wooden door and asked loudly, "Grandma, is dinner ready today?"

"No," a slightly aged voice replied.

"Where is the young lady?"

"Your stepmother... went out to buy rice."

……

Mo Zian discovered that these things were not found in Guangwu City either.

Finally, Mo Zian saw the small courtyard. He and Han Dafu had arranged to meet there.

In reality, the so-called courtyard was just a slightly larger-looking bungalow surrounded by a wooden fence that was better than nothing.

Mo Zian pushed open the gate, only to hear arguing coming from inside...