"Lord God!... What kind of person would have such a dagger?..."

In the big tent, Alan was wearing a cold mask, holding an obsidian dagger in his hand, standing in front of Priest Mecate, staring at the other's face. And Priest Mecate showed surprise on his face, muttering to himself while carefully looking at the slightly old dagger.

"The stone blade of this dagger has been replaced... The style of the wooden handle is very old, and the carvings are simple and simple. It seems to have been passed down for many years... Eh! This smell, this pattern

The content of this chapter is being updated...