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"I’ll let you make three moves, to avoid saying I’m bullying you.”
Xu Zimei raised his head, looking at the silhouette of the speaker.
The elder’s hair was tied with a braid on top of his head, resembling the traditional queue of ancient people, giving a scholarly feel.
He wore a blue Confucian robe, embroidered with patterns incomprehensible, his eyes steady.
His nose was flattened, lips dry and cracked.
As he walked over, the Great Saint’s imposing ...
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