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... of blood.
A pale figure shimmered brightly, like stardust cascading from the night sky.
Li Che emitted a gentle radiance, his eyes filled with tender care as he extended his hand, lightly placing it on Xi Xi’s little head.
Within the illusion realm shaped by Dao Yun, Xi Xi’s form was only that of a one-year-old—small, delicate, and exquisite.
In Li Che’s memory, the vision of Xi Xi being this small was already distant, a fragment buried in time.
But this ...
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