His face showed not a trace of the former sentiment, and he coldly spat out two words: "Traitor!"
The Crown Prince would not tolerate such traitors returning,
nor would he allow it.
So many years, thousands of hard days and nights, only those who've truly experienced it know how they survived.
Just when the great matter was about to succeed, these traitors wanted to rush in and get a share. Who gave them the nerve?
Old Limp watched as the sword's tip, like a nimble serpent, swiftly retracted.
Puff…
Blood gushed out like a fountain from his body.
His eyes widened, his face full of disbelief, and with a thud he fell forward, silent forever.
The little beggar was hiding not far away and witnessed this scene with his own eyes.
He clasped his mouth tightly with his hand to prevent himself from screaming in terror.
Old Limp fell, his face just facing the direction of the little beggar.
Those eyes were wide open, as if still staring at the little beggar.
