Western Regions, Holy Moon God Cult.

In the dark hall, there were only a few oil lamps barely supporting it, and the faint flames slowly beat, stirring everyone's nervous and depressed heartstrings.

Above the main seat of the hall, there was a man leaning against the graceful figure, appearing in the shadows that appeared with the candlelight.

Below the main seat, a large pot was supported, and the soup was boiling and the fragrance was everywhere.

Meng Po was still boiling her soup. She seemed to be very old, pale, wrinkles, and was a little slow to move. Her hands holding a tablespoon were trembling constantly. Her body was shaking, as if she was using all her strength to stir the pot of boiling soup.

There was a person standing beside Meng Po, a girl, who was not old and had a delicate and goose yellow face, always smiling, forming a sharp contrast with the old Meng Po.

The little girl stretched out her hand several times, trying to take the tablespoon from Meng Po's hand, but every time, when she reached out, Meng Po would cleverly push her hand away, as if what she was holding was not a tablespoon, but her own life.

This time, the little girl couldn't help but reach out to her hand.

Because, the little girl saw Meng Po’s hand stirring the boiling soup, she almost brought her body down.

She is too old, as old as a chrysanthemum in the cold wind, with its petals withered and falling out, only a flower stem is still supporting her tightly to prevent herself from falling down.

This time, Meng Po saw the little girl reaching out her hand, but she didn't stop it. She just sighed lightly and took the initiative to hand over the tablespoon in her hand.

The little girl's eyes lit up, she looked excited and even more solemn. She gently took the big spoon from Meng Po's hand with her trembling hands.

Meng Po smiled and looked at the little girl, her eyes full of kindness and doting, and she was even more worried.

Sure enough, when the little girl's hand just touched the handle of the tablespoon, she screamed in pain and quickly put down the tablespoon.

As if Meng Po had already expected it, she quickly took the tablespoon with her hands and eyes, and then slowly stirred it up.

The little girl rubbed her hands, her big eyes were filled with grievances and tears.

Meng Po didn't look at her, but just smiled and said, "What do you think?"

The little girl flattened her mouth, sniffed, and forced back the tears that were about to burst out from her eyes and said, "Hot."

Meng Po picked up the big spoon in one hand and said, "Is it hot?"

The little girl nodded, looking as if she was about to cry.

Then the little girl asked again, "Why don't you feel hot?"

Meng Po continued to stir the boiling soup and smiled, "Maybe it's because I'm used to it..."

The little girl nodded, thoughtfully and said, "You have been cooking this pot of soup for a long time?"

Meng Po finally stopped, raised her head slightly, as if she was thinking hard, and then said, "Oh... how long has it been... To be honest, I really forgot... Maybe... it has been thirty years... or forty years... Who knows..."

The little girl looked at Meng Po in surprise and said, "Thirty or forty years?! Then the soup has been boiled long ago?"

Meng Po smiled and said, "Hard? No..."

The little girl asked in confusion: "Why? Why can't I suck it up?"

Meng Po said: "Maybe it's because the bottom of this pot is too thick? Maybe it's because the fire is not strong enough? Or because something else? Who knows?"

The little girl put her hips on her hips, looked at Meng Po with her innocent big eyes, and shouted: "You are lying to others..."

When Meng Po heard this, she suddenly grinned and opened a shriveled mouth that had already lost all her teeth and said, "Why am I lying to you?"

The little girl said angrily: "If you don't turn off the heat, you can't keep it for forty years..."

Meng Po smiled again and said, "Maybe you are right, but I didn't lie to you..."

The little girl wanted to say something else, but the leader in black who was lying on the stone chair had already sat upright and said coldly: "Okay, Xiao Ba, you go down first..."

Meng Po gave a wink at the little girl. The little girl was very sensible and didn't say much. She jumped down the stone stairs and ran out.

There was another silence in the hall, only the firewood under Mengpo pot was burning "pied" and made a few light sounds.

After a long time, the leader of the black-clothed sect suddenly asked Meng Po, "Do you like that child very much?"

Meng Po was stunned, as if she hadn't thought about why the leader of the black-clothed sect asked her such a question, but she did not hesitate at all, and then smiled and said, "The innocent and cute children are always very easy to attract people to like..."

The leader of the black-clothed sect asked again: "You plan to let her inherit your mantle..."

Meng Po smiled and said, "Why did the leader say this?"

The leader of the black-clothed sect said: "Meng Po's soup pot is Meng Po's life. Whoever touches it will die..."

Meng Po said: "What the leader said is good..."

The leader of the black-clothed sect said lightly: "But you just asked her to touch your fault..."

Meng Po smiled and said, "The child's nature is inevitable. If you teach her to touch her, you will also teach her to give up..."

The leader of the black-clothed sect said: "You named her 'Eight Tribulations'..."

Meng Po smiled bitterly and said quietly: "There are eight sufferings in life: birth, old age, illness, death, love separation, hatred and hatred, unable to seek, unable to let go..."

The leader of the black-clothed sect said: "Your Mengpo soup is a combination of these eight sufferings in life..."

Meng Po smiled and said, "Indeed, people in the world cannot see through or understand it. It is just like this pot of boiling soup, which is disturbed and floating, falling, and floating sooner or later, falling, and falling, and always firmly believe that they will float up, and go back and forth, never stop until death..."

The leader of the black-clothed sect was stunned, and he was silent for a long time, and said softly: "What about you? What are you?"

Meng Po smiled and said, "I? I hold a spoon in my hand. It is the one who stirs the soup. I hold the spoon and stir the boiling soup, making the pot of soup that was originally as calm as the Dead Sea lively and boiling. I stir up and down, making them float up and down, and float up again, and then fall again, and I give them hope, make them despair, and then open up a trace of light for them in despair. What do you think I am?"

The leader of the black-clothed sect did not answer her, but then asked, "If you keep sinking to the bottom of the pot forever, you will remain unmoved if you disturb me in every way?"

When Meng Po heard this, she sighed and said, "That is a saint. She is a saint who escapes life and death, and she is not under my control..."

The leader in black said, "Have you ever met such a person?"

Meng Po laughed loudly, and there was helplessness and relief in her smile, saying, "The world is prosperous and profitable; the world is often profitable. Lao Sheng was stupid and lived for more than fifty years and had seen countless mortals. He has not met yet..."

As soon as Meng Po finished speaking, a series of footsteps rang out in the hall.

Meng Po took back her feelings, smiled again, picked up a tablespoon, and continued to make soup.

The person who came was Qingya, and Qingya was holding a person in his hand, someone he didn't know.

As soon as the man landed, he knelt on the ground, kept kowtowing, and said, "Greetings to the leader, payings to the leader..."

The leader of the black cult said coldly: "Say!"

The man said, "The Trumen has slaughtered three cities. Now, he is heading straight for the Holy Moon God Sect..."

The black-clothed leader said indifferently, "Where is my son?"

The man said, "The young master is injured and is on his way back..."

The leader of the black cult said coldly: "Are you Truman's person?"

The man said, "Yes, the youngest is a disciple of the Truman Blood Sword Hall, I'm here to surrender..."

The leader of the black-clothed sect said, "Why did you join me in the Holy Moon God Sect?"

The man said, "I admire you very much..."

The leader of the black sneered and said, "Are you loyal?"

The man said, "The little loyalty is unparalleled, and the heaven and earth can be seen..."

The leader in black nodded at Meng Po and said, "You go to her place and drink a bowl of soup, and I will believe you..."

Without saying a word, the man stood up, came to Meng Po, picked up a bowl of freshly served soup, "gululu", and drank it in two gulps...

Meng Po smiled, suddenly stretched out her hand, raised the man with one hand, and threw it into the pot with a "thump".

Before the man could even scream, he had already returned to his death. His flesh and blood had dissolved in this pot of boiling soup in an instant.

Meng Po picked up her tablespoon again and kept stirring in the soup pot, stirring while smiling and humming songs...

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Chapter completed!