Song Zhiqing looked at the ruins in front of him, and knelt on the ground with a pale face, looking shocked.

It was not a dream, but a real earth move, it was not a house collapse.

"You, do you think your aunt is here?" Song Zhiqing looked at Haiyan who was crying and raining, and scolded sternly: "How could aunt be here? She is here, how could you, a slut stand here forever?"

Haiyan knelt down and cried, "My aunt and mother Quan have something to say, so she won't let me serve you in front of me, so I have to walk away."

Song Zhiqing's heart broke out. What did the two of them avoid talking about others? Or what could they say in the temple?

Somehow he thought of what the boss said, and he was a little doubtful for a moment, but facing the ruins in front of him, his emotions overcame reason. He pointed to the monks who rushed over and shouted: "Dig, dig out the people for me, you bald slaves will dig them for me, you want to see people for life and see corpses for death."

The monks dared not speak out. First, the living courtyard in the temple collapsed and people were buried. They were always the fault of the situation, and secondly, they were also taboo on the power of the Song family.

Soon, someone excavated and went to report to the officers and soldiers.

The temple's host, Master Huijing, claimed the crime against Song Zhiqing. The East Hospital was crushed by heavy snow in the past few days and was a little disrepair. He wanted to repair it. Because the terrain was remote, the monks in the temple were not allowed to bring people here to rest, and they were still guarding him, but he didn't expect Bai Shuilian and the others to rest here.

Song Zhiqing's heart was in a mess and said impatiently: "Don't say extra words, I just want to see people."

Hui Jing sighed and chanted Amitabha Buddha, which made the monks step up their efforts. He even asked the onlookers to help, and promised each person ten cents. If he could save someone, he would give him a hanging of money.

Money can make the devil push the mill, and now more people join the excavation operation.

Haiyan cried bitterly.

It was so easy to do things, so soon, a woman in a horse-faced dress came out.

"It's Quan's mother." Haiyan's feet softened and she fell to the ground.

Song Zhiqing's heart was cold and he looked up at the scattered snow, and felt a bit desolate.

As time goes by, Haiyan frowned, and it is reasonable to say...

“Finally found.”

Song Zhiqing's feet were shaking, and he recognized it. It was Bai Shuilian's clothes.

It's her.

Haiyan felt relieved, and she screamed at the aunt, and then she started crying miserably.

Song Zhiqing shook his legs and walked forward one slashed from the person who was placed on the ground with bloody flesh and blood. He didn't dare to get close to identify it, and his body shook into a sieve.

How could this happen? How long has it been? How could a good person become like this?

It was clearly coming to pray for blessings, but why did it become a death-lost journey?

Song Zhiqing's brain was dizzy and glared at the monks Hui Jing who were reciting the sutra of rebirth: "You, I want you to pay your life."

The scene was a mess.

Haiyan quietly retreated. When she returned to the Zen temple, she took out a bag from the secret place, changed into a gray cotton jacket, whipped it on her face a few times, swallowed two pills, and her bones clattered, her hands and feet stretched, and she instantly became a completely stranger, a pretty girl in her twenties.

Immediately afterwards, she dragged someone out of the cabinet and replaced her with the clothes she had taken off before. The person with no bleeding at all at the corner of her mouth was the real Haiyan.

The woman glanced at her, walked out, and took the basket down the mountain while the chaos.

"Mom Quan, where are you going?"
Chapter completed!