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... gure gradually revealed its true form.
It was a middle-aged man, his originally square and straight face caved in from the hammer blows of Beichuan Si, wearing a black leather apron with boots and an upper garment of a white shirt soaked through with dark blood.
Could he actually communicate?
Beichuan Si’s brow furrowed deeply.
By nature, a vengeful spirit was the grudge of the dead against the living, something similar to a longing.
Have you ever seen a l ...
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