PREVIEW
... and a refined fragrance of tea.
Zi Xuan Hermit, clad in a purple robe, still wore an indifferent expression as he looked at Lin Shiming.
At this moment, Lin Shiming’s eyes brimmed with sorrow, his attire a simple white robe.
However, he did not present himself with an air of holding a spirit coffin or wearing a mourning hat.
Some matters are better if stopped at the right moment.
If the Zi Xuan Hermit paid attention, he would naturally notice, and the fact ...
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