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The divine blood clone was like a salted fish that had lost its dream, slumped on the seat motionless, even if the chair stuck out its wooden handle and tried to comfort her, she completely ignored it.
Just a godless mumbling.
And the content of her self-talk was still “Abba Abba”.
Looking at this strange scene, Angel hesitated and asked Laplace: “Is this… a side effect?”
Laplace did not speak immediately, but looked carefully
The content of this chapter is being updated…