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... > It wasn't that Iskandar lacked driving skills.

After all, he had been driving chariots (in battle) his whole life (or at least, it seemed that way; the great emperor only lived to 33). His Riding skill was A+, and he could even compete with some delivery drivers from a certain tofu shop on the legendary mountain road. Under normal circumstances, the likelihood of him flipping the chariot was zero.

But this time, the problem was with the chariot itself. While speeding along at m ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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