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... ke a fox’s eyes, coldly gazing at the mortal world.
Qingwei Palace, meditation chamber.
When Zhang Fan awoke, the sky was beginning to lighten. He staggered out of bed, stumbled outside, and saw the first glimmer of dawn rising in the east.
"Taoist Pojie?" Zhang Fan called, his voice hoarse and low, his throat felt as if it had been scorched by fire—painful beyond endurance, and his body was weak to the extreme.
The quiet corridor was utterly devoid of human prese ...
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