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... morning.
When Guo Qin stirred, the boy had stopped drawing. He now sat quietly at the edge of the cliff, bathed in morning light, gazing out into the distance. His eyes held a kind of ancient sorrow, a depth far beyond his years.
She stood and walked over, then glanced down at the stick figures he’d drawn.
After a moment of studying them, she let out a soft exclamation of surprise. “Huh?”
The boy didn’t turn around. “After watching your Skygale Sword Style last ni ...
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