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... late ruins.
Add to that the sound of approaching footsteps, and it felt like the perfect setting for a horror movie.
At this hour, the person coming could only be Uncle Qian.
But these footsteps—light, elegant, like a lone cat prowling in the night.
It wasn’t Uncle Qian.
Rong Xianning turned around. Aside from the small patch illuminated by his flashlight, everywhere else was swallowed by darkness, impenetrable as an abyss.
"Who’s there?" He stared ...
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