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... had long been accustomed to it.
The blood dripped down, but it seemed to fall not into the wine bowl, but onto Chen Qing’s face.
In the understanding of this world, wasn’t he also considered an abnormal person?
Perhaps one day, he too would be pierced by massive chains through his shoulder blades, hung in the dark depths where no light shone, with people coming daily with Gu to ask him how to enhance.
To grow old like this, to be so numb, to wait for death.
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