But Mo Yan was still worried. He grabbed Su Ming'an's wrist: "Brother, I'll take you away, go back and see if you've been brainwashed. If you have been brainwashed, it will be terrible."
Su Ming'an's pupils were covered with a layer of mist. He was blankly led by Mo Yan, the snowy Divine Son clothing dragging along the ground.
At this moment, a white figure appeared inside the tent.
"...What are you trying to do to my Archangel?" the Deity said faintly.
"Sure enough, still brainwashed." Mo Yan realized something was wrong. Brother's expression was too stiff, like a puppet on strings.
"...Why speak so harshly, it's just controlling the mark," the Deity laughed lightly. "Among thousands of possibilities, there are always a few hundred where he couldn't escape the Angel ritual and was successfully marked with a control mark and belongs to me. In this 'possibility,' you can't save him."
Mo Yan didn't understand. But he at least knew that he wanted to save his brother in his hand.
