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Chapter 94: HYBRIDS’ BATTLE
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... n stepped in when the invitation came. The room was calm—books stacked like patient sentinels, a faint scent of ink and stale tea—and Silas sat behind his desk with that tired composure of a man who’s mediated campus drama a dozen times too many.
Opposite Silas, rigid as a carved statute, stood a man in his fifties: sharp jaw, colder eyes, presence that said whatever he wanted, he usually got. Two B-rankers lingered behind the man, their auras like low thunder—intimidation made visible. ...
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