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... ow barely illuminating the tension in the air. Feng Jiao Xue sat at the simple wooden table, fingers lightly tapping against the surface, her expression unreadable. The letters Tian Heng had delivered lay untouched beside her, but her focus had long since drifted from them.
She wasn’t alone.
A subtle shift in the air. A breath out of place. The faintest creak of wooden floorboards, nearly imperceptible but clear to her trained ears.
Assassins.
They had moved in si ...
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