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... looked up at the sky.
The lead-gray dome of the heavens was like a torn sack of cotton, spilling out goose-feather snowflakes. In an instant, the north wind twisted them into a vast, white curtain of snow.
The only sound between heaven and earth was the soft hiss of falling snow, as if creation itself was painting everything pure white.
’I can’t sell this house.’
’Even if I were to sell it, I’d have to wait until I can perform the Refinement on the Demon Suppressi ...
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