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... hanged faces. By day, it was a labyrinth of corner markets, cracked tiles, and timeworn smiles. By night, it pulsed with a different energy—restless, unpredictable, watching.
Lin Feng stood near a shuttered herbal shop, the flickering neon light above humming faintly. Behind him, a narrow alley twisted into darkness. He wasn’t dressed like someone powerful—just a black windbreaker, worn boots, and that ever-calm expression—but the quiet way people made space for him said enough.
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