As for who will be king, it's really not their business or their concern.
Shops are open, and there are not many pedestrians on the streets, but there are still.
It didn't return to prosperity, but it didn't end.
People's vitality and adaptability are very strong.
Wearing ordinary clothes, ryukue and xuanyuanche walk across the busy streets, the four cities of Chenjun, and finally to the original Temple of the Southern Song Dynasty.
Magnificent temples, with a strong southern color, bright and imaginative, quite wild.
At this time, along the way, the incense is quite prosperous, and the rolling cigarettes are flying and filled everywhere in the national temple.
People came and went, almost wiping their shoulders.
It's more lively than the streets.
Liuyue and xuanyuanche stand under a bodhi tree outside the main hall of the national temple, hidden in the shade of the tree, looking at the great popularity in front of them.
It's rare. I've never seen such a flourishing fireworks in any temple.
He glanced at the ordinary people who kept going back and forth, and Ryukyu looked up at the Golden Temple main hall.
"Dismantle it." Very light, but absolutely determined to drop these three words.
Faith, this is the existence of a belief.
The Southern Song Dynasty had destroyed the country, but there were so many incense in the temple, which was more than the people in the main street.
This only illustrates one problem.
The Southern Song Dynasty still lives in the hearts of these Southern Song people, who are recalling it in this form, missing it and looking forward to it.
Such a belief is terrible. It's an invisible spirit, but it's even worse than a tangible force.
It may be the source of future disasters.
Ryukyu is quite clear about this.
Xuanyuanche next to him not only disagreed, but smiled and said, "what are they talking about?"
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