Ten billion wealthy daughters

Hearing her mother, Lin Yurui's face finally showed a trace of confusion and sadness, but that little hesitation was fleeting, and turned into coldness again.

"No one can stop what I want to do."

He stood coldly in front of the master he had revered since he was a child: "Don't use your mother as an excuse to hide; you should know my method. The lives of all the monks in Yangon are at your fingertips."

Yes, all the monks in the Yangon Temple, whether they live or die, are all in his mind.

Therefore, he actually has no retreat; Lin Yurui, when did you start planning?

Is it half a year, is it a year, or longer?

Whether he agreed or not, he was driven to a corner.

He once witnessed the birth of Lin Yurui, watched him lose his mother when he was young, and grew up alone, and saw him smile and be kind, but now he finds that he has grown into another person completely.The scheming is deep, the means are tough, and in order to achieve the goal, he will not speak out, until now.

"Too many people have died..." The master shook his head, those eyes carrying the stars seemed to see the bloody future, "Put down the butcher knife, Rui."

There are very few people who can call him by his name directly, and Guru is one of them; Guru was once the person he respected the most, but now he is pushed to the top of the cliff step by step.

Fate is really terrible sometimes; but he will not give in, nor will he be reconciled.

What he wants to do must be accomplished, no matter what is standing in front of him, it will not change this.

"You don't have to persuade me, because whether you agree or not, I will still do it, and those people will still die." Lin Yurui is very indifferent, and his patience is also very limited, "The only difference is that if you don't agree to me, Yangon Temple The people who died with them will die with them; you promise me that the Rangoon Temple can be preserved."

It's just the difference between more deaths and fewer deaths. Put down the butcher's knife, that's a joke.

Since he was a teenager, his hands have been covered with blood. Whether it is the internal strife in the Lin family, the fierce civil war in Myanmar, or the external interference in Myanmar, he is doomed to be full of blood in his life. It's bloody.

There used to be a clear stream in his life, sweet and moist, which made him feel that he was still alive, but now this spring water has long been far away from him.

No one can stop what he is determined to do.

The master was silent.

Because what Lin Yurui said was so right, if he didn't help him, he would still do it, even more brutally; if he helped him, he was just lingering on his last breath, saving the lives of a group of monks in Yangon Temple.

He doesn't care about life and death, he doesn't care about foreign things, but he can't help but care about the survival of Yangon Temple, and he can't help caring about the lives of so many monks.

Lin Yurui, Lin Yurui, in fact, you have already figured it out; apply the wisdom of commanding military wars to him, step by step!

Rui saw that his expression was complex, with pain and annoyance, and the sadness in his eyes was even heavier, she took a few steps forward, reached in front of him, bent down, and said slowly in his ear: "You will help me... because……"

The following words are almost like mosquito moaning, inaudible.

The master's body shook slightly, and a look of horror appeared in those eyes full of wisdom, obviously he was greatly shocked.

He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he didn't say anything, and slowly closed his eyes, two lines of tears streaming down slowly.

Cong Rong: Second watch, everyone rest early.