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... could pass through alone.

The low shacks stood shoulder to shoulder, vying for cramped space, with the sky relegated to a thin, elongated crack.

Upon entering the alley, Zhang Shuyuan was forced to slow his pace as the once-wide streets narrowed.

Suddenly, seated on the cart, Shen Qing tensed up, gripping the arrow tightly, his heart like the taut string on the bow, his expression solemn.

He ducked to avoid a protruding eave and said, "Xiao Hu, draw the bow to the ...

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