PREVIEW
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Tonight, there are neither stars nor moon.
Only a faint light burns in the dining hall on the first floor of the inn.
The Murong brothers walk along the road, their feet on a red carpet laid out by the Meat Bodhisattvas.
Petal strewn around the red carpet emit a faint fragrance, appearing exceedingly elegant.
Yet, the Murong brothers’ backs are drenched in cold sweat.
The chill wind blows, turning that sweat into a biting cold that seeps into their ski ...
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