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Chapter 115: The Blacksmith
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Chapter 117: The Works of the Locals
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... he could no longer rise.
Helplessly shaking his head, Ronald turned his gaze in the direction the man had indicated.
—It was an ordinary wardrobe.
Made entirely of wood except for the hinges, its surface bore nothing special or noteworthy.
Ronald hadn’t yet reached the point of casually pulling open the wardrobe doors himself.
Instead, with a wave of his hand, the sprawling black mist moved forward to yank the doors open for him.
Immediately, every ...
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