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... ch step of the stairs had left behind the murmur of courtesans, the music, and the warmth of the drink. Damon followed behind the courtesan in the black kimono, each step firm and measured, almost solemn. The tension in his shoulders increased with every meter he covered, and the echo of his own boots sounded like drumbeats in his mind.

But it wasn’t just the silence that weighed on him. It was what he had heard before he climbed:

’The Demon Phoenix of the Celestial Demon Cult.’ ...

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