PREVIEW
... shed speaking, the whole grand hall fell into a dead silence.
The Grand Elder’s fists were clenched tightly in his sleeves, his knuckles already turning white.
Below, the bronze token at Qin An’s waist trembled incessantly, and the voices of the crowd surged into his mind like a tide.
Wuo Lin’s transmitted voice was crisp and decisive: "Are you coming or not?"
Liao Yang: "This matter is suspicious, not sure what medicine Zhang Chunyang is selling in his gourd." ...
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