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... ritual roots required fuel.
Bai Weiwei’s thousand-year lifespan was precisely that fuel.
She sat quietly with her legs crossed in front of the furnace. The green flames burned above the array.
She didn’t feel pain because the flames didn’t burn anything except life.
The thousand years of life was worth nothing to Bai Weiwei because at most, she could only live for sixteen months. She was just making good use of waste material.
She watched the furnace, letting Ning Y ...
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