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The face in front of Meng Yongshou was all too familiar; it was his own father, the same father who was supposed to be lying in an ice coffin at the funeral home.
The person in front of him had a dark, cyanotic complexion and rigid limbs, dressed in a black shroud.
Meng Yongshou couldn’t understand; his father had just passed away, so how did he suddenly turn into strangeness? And moreover, he had returned home.
To say h ...
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