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The knife was sturdy, caked with grease and even traces of blood. Slashing towards the snowflakes fluttering in the air, it seemed somewhat out of place, as if in the next moment, it will be slashing through naught but thin air. Because in front of the cliff, there was nothing but snow. Nevertheless, when this knife slashed downwards, the fabric of space warped, followed by a loud ripping sound. A world formed by a pair of transparent cicada wings was sliced apart in a single ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

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……………………………………………………………

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