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... ss smelled of oxidized copper and boiling acid. It whipped the loose crimson silk of the curtains into a violent frenzy, scattering black ash across the ruined VIP suite.
On the floor, former billionaires wept. They curled into the damp carpet, clutching their zeroed-out terminals, coughing up blood and teeth as the Zhang Central Bank violently repossessed their physical cultivation.
I did not look at them. I kept my eyes on the Market Maker.
Baron Zhang stood rigid. The ...
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