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Inside the family’s most pure and holy ancestral grounds, everyone in the Tullius Family was seated. A typical old western man, a beard on his face and his head bald, slapped Warren several meters away. The old man fixed his eyes on Warren as if he wanted to eat him. At the side, three men and three women, all of them Perfect Counts, and two of them even quasi Marquises, glared at Warren in disappointment, hating iron for not being steel. Their eyes flared with rage as they looked at ...

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