On the wrist, a beautiful butterfly. Blood-red wings, with black veins like a net, and a pair of red tentacles, as slender as cloud brocade. The fair complexion suddenly gave off a hint of ominousness.
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Cat, if I die, will you still follow me?
Stupid mouse, haven't we already been linked to life and death? Zhan Zhao waved his hand and smiled brightly. You are dead, how can I still be alive?
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