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248. This Young Master Accepts Seconds
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249. Distilled Mayhem
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... g obeyed, still shy about the gesture. The faint scarring along his abdomen was healing well, the lines thin and pale, as if drawn with ash water. I pressed along the meridians near his navel, then traced a light circle over his lower back, where the corrupption had once clung like thorns.
“Any nausea? Night sweats?” I asked.
“No,” His voice cracked slightly; still reedy from malnourishment, but stronger than when he woke up. “I feel… clear.”
Behind him, Han Chen stood li ...
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