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Chapter 979 You Don’t Deserve to Use My Brother’s Face
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... > At Burl Radcliffe’s home.
Julius Reed was sitting on the sofa, a box of hidden weapons on the table.
Inside the box were darts.
In front of him, Noam Martin was kneeling, straight as a pole.
Quaking in fear.
The floor was already soaked with blood, the dripping sounds unceasing.
The air felt somewhat congealed.
The box of hidden weapons was less than twenty centimeters away from Noam Martin.
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