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but somehow managing to look like a fallen immortal slumming it for aesthetic reasons.
Black hair like ink.
Eyes deep, melancholic, carrying emotional damage worth at least three novels.
Aura steady, cold, and sharp—like a sword sheathed inside silk.
Every Outer disciple stole glances at him.
Girls whispered with starry eyes.
Boys swallowed their pride and pretended not to feel inferior.
Even the spirit lamps dimmed, as if paying trib ...
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