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... _2
Qin Shier repressed the scorn on her face, and with a respectful demeanor, she pushed the door open and entered.
In the boudoir filled with the lingering scent of sandalwood, an elderly man in green with white frost in his hair stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
The elder was tall and wore a mask shaped like a tiger’s head.
Though aged, he stood there as if he were a tiger deep in slumber, ready to erupt with a fierce aura that could make on ...
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