In the hall, a noblewoman, still full of charm, was crying with her face covered, "Husband, Jiu Er has been frail since childhood and can't withstand such a fright. We must rescue her quickly."
Mr. Huang looked grim. Even with his profound cultivation, he was deeply troubled by the situation.
"You women only know how to cry. If crying was useful, why would I spend so much money hiring all these experts? Jiu Er is the apple of my eye; how could I not rescue her?" Mr. Huang was most annoyed by women sobbing, which made him quite irritable.
A middle-aged man sitting below said, "Mr. Huang, the price you're offering is really low. It's said that the Thirteen Great Thieves are thirteen individuals, each a skilled cultivator. Breaking it down, it's just over twenty thousand Spirit Stones per thief. Even if you searched the world, no one would take it for such a price."
