Wrong Prayer

"Please support Goddess Ye Xinxia. She will do better than Izisha." The tattooed young Athenian man kept offering olive branches to the people around him while giving them a soft smile. Even if others were unwilling to accept it, he would still thank them.

Soon, several friends of the young man with tattoos also offered olive branches along with him. They passed on these fragrant and elegant keepsakes and passed on a common idea.

Every country needed tranquility and peace, and no one wanted to suffer endlessly. That was their message.

"Give me some." Mo Jiaxin resolutely joined the olive branch delivery team with the young people.

"Haha Uncle, let me draw on your face!" One of the men had a paintbrush. Without hesitation, he painted a small olive leaf on Mo Jiaxin's face.

"You look energetic, unlike those lifeless old fogies." The tattooed young man grinned.