“Young friend Chen Ping, careful!” Li Baichuan cried out in alarm. The Soul-Devouring Puppet’s grey-white eyes snapped towards Chen Ping. The long spear in its hand flicked, abandoning Li Baichuan, and stabbed straight at Chen Ping’s forehead. The thrust was fast, precise, ruthless. There was no flourish, only pure killing technique. But this was the…
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