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... an.
Why did shit like this always happen to me?
I bit my lip, pumping my hands into fists that I wanted to bury into Sumatra’s face. I made a vow that if I ever did make it back alive, I’d do just that. The satisfaction of pummeling that greedy, gray bastard would be well worth the reciprocation it would no doubt bring. I glanced over my shoulder at my so-called cultivator.
The giant oaf of a woman hadn’t said a word since we departed. She lumbered along with slow, delibe ...
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