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... spers became wind. And the wind carried truth.

Yan Zhuo had not been quiet. He walked back into the disciples' quarters like a war god descending from the heavens—bare-chested, robe slung carelessly over one shoulder, his cock barely hidden beneath loose trousers, and the scent of sex clinging to him like incense. His smile was arrogant. His words louder than necessary.

"Lin Mu held her legs open for me," he told one group, lounging under a courtyard tree. "Then cleaned every dro ...

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