PREVIEW

...  Ghost messengers guard both sides of the bridge, counting the ghosts coming and going.

  Under the bridge, the black and viscous Wangchuan River is made up of thousands of kinds of blood.

  The pungent smell of blood filled the nostrils.

  In the river, the water ghosts were ups and downs, staring at the ghosts on the bridge like hungry crocodiles.

   Waiting for the opportunity to move, wishing to pounce on them immediately and tear the ghosts weaker than them to pi ...

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