The Purple Sand Tea Pot in his hands turned out to be a war trophy, harboring such a significant piece of history. Jiang Xiaobai suddenly felt he had somewhat underestimated the Purple Sand Tea Pot, and even more so, the one-armed old man before him.
"I'm sorry, old man, I didn't know this Purple Sand Tea Pot had such an important origin," Jiang Xiaobai apologized.
"This was obtained with the blood and lives of countless soldiers; it carries a heavy weight," the one-armed old man sighed. "However, after tonight, it might be buried with the commander forever, never to see the light of day again."
Jiang Xiaobai was startled, realizing that the one-armed old man did not yet know that Gu Jiufeng had regained consciousness.
"Old man, are you troubled and sweeping in the middle of the night because the owner of this Purple Sand Tea Pot is about to die?" Jiang Xiaobai asked with a smile.
