"Ah!"
Yu let out a piercing scream and hurriedly shoved the servant beside her forward to block the blade.
But Daoist Qianyun was, after all, a cultivator of the Dao. He would never stab the innocent indiscriminately.
He changed the dagger's direction, chanting, "Amitabha, Amitabha, don't deduct my merit. I'm only avenging a grudge, settling an injustice..."
Then he stabbed Yu in the chest, again and again.
Since Duke Yan had said to spare this woman's life, Daoist Qianyun avoided her vital points.
After he finished stabbing her, he even sealed her acupoints to stop the bleeding.
He stood up, still chanting Amitabha.
"Aren't you going to reattach her hand?" Yuanbao laughed at the sight before him.
So apparently, after doing something bad, chanting the Buddha's name a couple of times would keep your merit from being deducted. He had learned something new.
"I've already stopped her bleeding. What more does she want? Should I fix that hand so she can use it to seduce this old Daoist?"
He recalled the day he had treated Yu's hand bones, when she had draped her other hand limply over his shoulder just like that.
Daoist Qianyun's scalp prickled with fear.
That was close! This woman nearly shattered my Dao heart.
Yuanbao raised an eyebrow. "Got some juicy gossip?"
Daoist Qianyun gave him a sidelong look, drew in his neck, and dared not say another word.
Yu lay half-dead on the ground. Her tears had ruined her makeup, her whole body was drenched in blood, and every limb and bone trembled with pain.
Why weren't any of the servants in her residence coming to protect her?
She looked around in bewilderment.
"Are you all dead?"
Steward Qian immediately reacted. "Daoist, are you finished stabbing her? If you are, we're going to stop you