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... nks of the Wei River.
The night’s fishing lanterns were still flickering.
With people coming and going, the riverside hillside – where Zhang Taiyan’s bones lay buried – gradually sank into silence.
All that remained was a mess.
And in the air, the lingering, faint scent of blood.
A thousand feet away from the hillside, above the river, mist and water vapor changed shapes in the cool breeze. For a moment, the mist abruptly paused and formed a face.
...
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