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... r his face. He flexed his spine and punched himself in the gut, forcing blood out of his mouth and uttered what Yangyang translated as, “He said, ‘Your Majesty, please spare this one. This one has not eaten in days. He honestly does not have any money.’”
I was as livid as I was amused. “Lass, is the shaman tax a lot?”
Yangyang poked her tongue out quickly. “I am not sure. Dad told me that a village has to pay enough for a shrine’s renovations annually, though. As for ...
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