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... il lamp.
When a hoarse voice echoed from outside the door, every hair on Shen Bai’s body stood on end.
He knew that voice all too well. He’d heard it just last night—it was the old Daoist.
Zhang Chaofeng had told him just this morning that the old Daoist had died at the Qian Family’s residence. ’So how could he be at the pawnshop tonight?’
’Are ghosts and other such wicked things actually real?’ Shen Bai gripped the rusted Iron Sword resting on the table.
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