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... the common tongue, devoid of any dialect. The outsiders were too stunned to respond.

He cast a quick glance and saw a total of eight carriages.

“Are you merchants?” the barbarian asked.

“Yes,” came the stuttered reply.

“Braving the snowfield, you’ve chosen a perilous path,” he said in his deep, resonating voice.

The mercenaries hesitated, gripping their swords. They had expected a monster but were faced with a barbarian spoken of only in legends. The shock ...

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“I don’t love you anymore.”

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