When she had asked the steward Lin about it, he had casually replied, “These are worthless items. We were going to donate them to a temple, but the prince’s stay at Tianying Gate delayed that.”
Hmm, the Prince’s Palace was truly extravagant, even the servants were so arrogant.
Not wanting to leave empty-handed, she picked up an exquisitely carved dagger about half a foot long. Drawing it from its sheath, she was somewhat disappointed. What a pity for a good scabbard – it was sharp, but compared to Huangfu Zeuan’s Seven Star Longyan sword and Qin Yuhang’s Damascus sword, it wasn’t even worth mentioning.
Just as Ye Hui was about to put down the dagger, Old Eleven thought she liked it and threw a silver coin to the merchant. She frowned, “Eleventh Brother, I was just casually looking. Why did you buy it? Do you have too much money burning a hole in your pocket?”
Old Eleven nodded and laughed, “Consider it a gift from me. I’m happy.” As if he had ever given her a gift before – as the Prince’s wife, everything she needed was already taken care of by Huangfu Zeuan, and she had no need for his help.
Ye Hui could only accept it, casually placing it in her deerskin boot. At this moment, she didn’t know that this dagger bought by Old Eleven would unexpectedly save her life, showing that all things in life are interconnected and predestined.
Those people were scared pale, covering their thigh with an uninjured hand, and hurriedly said: “Ten miles south, there’s a mountain pass where everyone agreed to meet. I’ve told you everything, please don’t kill me.”
Lao Shiyi’s face flashed with a vicious look: “You can die now.” Drawing his long sword, a cold light flashed, and the thin man’s head was cleanly cut off.
He didn’t even glance at the headless body, and called Lao Shi to chase southward.
Pedestrians on the street discovered the murder and panicked, shouting, but no one dared to catch the two killers.
