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... p> By the third nightfall, Yin Hua knelt in the center of the sanctum, fully clothed now in dark silks that bore no emblem—no identity beyond the one Tian Mo had carved into her. Her once-defiant spirit was now honed into something more dangerous: loyal, submissive, and utterly bound to him.

Tian Mo stood behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder, fingers glowing faintly with a trace of his Qi. Her spiritual core still pulsed with chaotic resonance—a reminder of who she belonged to. < ...

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