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... an calling it morning, it’s better to say it’s a vague moment in time within Anvil Fortress, where the perpetually dim space is filled with the smell of cheap tobacco and engine oil.
Fang Qingyu was woken up by a bout of violent coughing and indistinct cursing from next door.
"Cough... phoo! Damn it, sleeping in this hellhole for a night feels like my bones are falling apart! Those damn neighbors were howling all night, how can anyone live like this?"
Chu Kuanglan’s muffl ...
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