Maodun and the surrounding Huns heard the sound and looked over, and the person their attention was focused on was actually a person from the Central Plains.
He was seven feet tall, half a head shorter than the Hun prince when he sat on his horse. He held the reins tightly with both hands, fearing that he would fall off the horse, and he stood out in the team composed entirely of Huns.
"Mao Dun's fate is in the hands of Mr. Ye!"
The Hun prince held the scimitar and nodded slightly. His bloodstained face was still ferocious, but mixed with a hint of hope.
Mr. Ye had been with him for less than a year. When he came, he was just a poor man from the Central Plains, wearing common clothes.
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