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Yet in Andre’s world, the luminous stone-encrusted hand was unbearably slow—especially when Andre was staring at it.
Coincidentally, there is also a guy who doesn't know how to poke at his sore spot.
"Tribunal, what kind of good thing is it?" Turin led Aima Mo Lan Hei to Andre's side, stretched his neck, and looked curiously at the Nulen clock in Andre's hand: "You all I've been staring at this all morning!"
Andre snorted coldly, handed the ...
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