PREVIEW

... efused to collapse—weather-worn stone, cracked sigils, and a formation barrier that flickered like it owed rent.

But inside?

It was alive.

A pungent cocktail of bloodlust, body odor, and broken dreams filled the room like incense. Men with too many scars and women with not enough morals crowded the hall—mercenaries, beastkin, cursed alchemists, demon-blood hybrids, and a few cultivators who smelled like they hadn't bathed since the last heavenly tribulation.

Weapo ...

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