Witch, Let Go of My Senior Brother!
by I Won't Sell Spicy Strips Anymore
About This Novel
The green smoke is like ink, dyeing the mountains and rivers thousands of miles away. The clouds and mist are condensed but not dispersed, and the drizzle is continuous. It beats on the ground and is almost imperceptible, but it washes away the turbid air in the world and sees the refreshing breeze in the wilderness.
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