But after beating up the chicken blood, Ou Yangrong did not act immediately.,As the postgraduate hopeful was about to throw another dice, his body suddenly stiffened. He lowered his eyes and silently looked down at himself, noticing the unfamiliar Confucian robe he had always tried to ignore.,So that morning, Ou Yangrong, with his sharp and critical gaze, took a taxi to Donglin Temple. When he arrived, he saw, "Goodness gracious! Not only was Mo Daojun early, but there were even people earlier than him. The queue of worshippers stretched all the way down the mountain. Ahead of him were mostly people his age, huddled in the cold wind, scrolling through their phones."。