PREVIEW
... h a dull knife. It wasn't the dignified silence of meditation, but the suffocating pressure of a powder keg about to blow.
Elder Fu Yan sat at the head of the table, and honestly, the man looked like he had aged fifty years in a single night. His face was grey, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was massaging his temples like he was trying to crush his own skull to stop the headache pounding inside.
Standing in front of him were his two "allies," and they looked ready to tear each o ...
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