His gaze seemed to penetrate Mo Wen's eyes， sensing the young man's long-held secrets and his urge to confide.

Mo Wen appeared to be deep in thought but began to have doubts. From the man's words， it seemed that the stranger was very interested in his father's disappearance. It was very possible the man had been present when it happened， making his identity questionable.

“I've been with my dad since I was little， and I never noticed anything special. He liked studying ancient books and strange theories. Three years ago， he called me and said he was going on a business trip to a seaside city. That's when he disappeared. I've been to that city， but found no clues.“

“A seaside city? How could that be possible? Did you remember it wrong?“

The big man asked with disbelief. Molin definitely disappeared in the desert temple， so how could this young man claim his father vanished by the sea?

The big man looked at Mo Wen with suspicion， trying to uncover his secrets. Then he realized he had revealed too much and quickly drank his beer and ate his skewers.

He thought to himself，“This young man must suspect me.“

When he lowered his head， Mo Wen noticed the tall man didn't have a receding hairline， but instead had faint precept scars.

Mo Wen curiously asked，“Master， do you know my father?“

The big man quickly denied it，“No， no， I don't know him.“

“It's okay. How did you hear about my father? You can tell me; I won't tell your Shift， You eat meat and drink beer outside the temple，“ Mo Wen smiled.

“Ha， my Master is far away. He can't control me. Haven't you heard the saying that meat and wine pass through the intestines， but the Buddha stays in the heart?“The big man waved his hand dismissively.

Mo Wen chuckled and responded，“Master， isn't there also a saying that if the world learns from that， it leads you down the path of the devil?“

The big monk was briefly speechless， unable to respond. How could he forget the latter part of that saying? It reminded him of his Master's words about his lack of learning. Nonetheless， this young man seemed knowledgeable about Buddhism.

The big monk quickly shifted the conversation， choosing to focus on Mo Wen's background instead.“When did you realize I was a monk?“ he asked with a hint of curiosity， hoping to steer the conversation back to himself.

“Your demeanor is extraordinary， clearly that of an enlightened monk. It was hard to miss，“ Mo Wen replied， his tone respectful.

The big monk chuckled， straightening his back proudly.

“Is that so? You could sense my aura despite my attempts to hide it.“

He straightened his posture， feeling a sense of pride in his mastery. He glanced toward the distant renowned ancient temple， subtly implying his connection to it.

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“Oh， modesty is important. I am a Bhante from the capital， relaxing after work. Meeting me is part of your destiny，“ he said， trying to stroke his beard to mimic his Master's saintly manner.

However， he accidentally found a skewer in his hand， almost poking his chin， and quickly set it down.

“Your fate has led you to this encounter with me. Shall I grant you some good fortune and banish your bad luck?“ the big monk went on， attempting to take control of the conversation and influence Mo Wen's fate.

Mo Wen knew there was a great divide between them， yet he humored the big man and played along.

“Oh， I don't have any misfortunes. Difficulty in work and life stems from my youth and lack of experience，“ Mo Wen answered politely.

The big monk waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh， one mustn't say that. Everything relies on fate， fortune， and Feng Shui. Seven-tenths of success lies in fate， three-tenths in human effort. How can one say it's unimportant?“ He continued， eager to flaunt his supposed wisdom.

“You see， in the workplace， with good fortune， one can climb swiftly and high. Some people can rise above you within just 1-2 years of joining. But then again， no matter how high you climb， you're just serving capital as a good servant. Once luck runs out， everything can collapse in an instant.“ The big monk pontificated， as if sharing hard-earned truths.

“Not boasting， but those who seek my blessings for luck are always queuing up outside the temple gates，“ the big monk added， boasting about his influence and reputation.

Mo Wen nodded in agreement， knowing the big monk was boasting but choosing to play along. The big monk was pleased to see Mo Wen's compliance.

“Master speaks wisely. Could you please enlighten me?“ Mo Wen asked， feigning interest.

The big monk gulped down half a glass of beer， instantly feeling more confident. He thought to himself，“This young man might just be an easy mark.“

As he picked up a skewer， he eyed it with newfound appreciation.

The chunks of lamb were golden and fresh， with each piece having been gently embraced by charcoal fire， crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. A gentle bite， and the juices burst forth， filling the mouth with a savory flavor.

Suddenly， the sound of a crying child drowned out the market noise， ruining the big man's enjoyment of his meal.

Sitting at a table next to the snack stall was a young couple with their child， probably around three or four years old. It seemed the child wanted the mother to buy a toy， but was ignored.

The child kept kicking the table leg， as if trying to vent his dissatisfaction. His lips quivered， his face was streaked with tears， his nose was red， and his mouth was wide open， crying sharply and piercingly. Those around him were annoyed by the noise and cast disapproving glances.

The big monk rubbed his ears as the child's mother spoke at length， while the father remained absorbed in his phone.

'What's wrong， little one?' Mo Wen asked with a smile.

The child didn't respond， trying instead to make more noise. His mother sighed， explaining the child's constant demands for new toys， noting the house was already full.

The child's cries intensified. Pigeons scattered as his kicking legs startled them， and Mo Wen felt a headache coming on as his mom non stop talking.

“The old man earns so little money every day， you always want this， you always want that. What can your money buy? Look at my nephew， he's already driving a Mercedes G-Class at a young age.“

The child cried even harder. The pigeons scavenging for food underfoot were busy looking for food， and the child's kicking legs startled them. Mo Wen also got a headache from the noise.

“Wait here， I'll make a toy for you right here!“ he said.

The child stopped crying and curiously looked over. Mo Wen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small multi-tool with a cross etched on it. It was small， the size of a palm， but it had dozens of different tools.

“You carry that everywhere you go?“ asked the bald man sitting nearby， curious.

“Yes， it's my treasure， custom-made， and cost me half a year's salary，“ Mo Wen proudly showed off the tool. It even had a micro-laser head that could leave his logo on a grain of rice-sized electronic component.

“You're almost broke and you still spent half a year's salary on that?“ the bald man exclaimed in disbelief.

Mo Wen smiled，“If you can't afford to eat， just eat less. How can you live without hobbies?“