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Chapter 833 - It’s Not My Fault For Being Born Handsome, You Know?

"Really, he said that?" Morax asked the Death Lord that he had ordered to pick up the mirror at the Glory Shelter.

"Yes, Your Excellency," the Death Lord replied as he bowed in a respectful manner.

Morax snorted as he waved his hand to dismiss the Death Lord from his throne room. When his subordinate was no longer in sight, the Dread Lord inspected the mirror in his hand before nodding his head.

"It is indeed one of the mirrors that I was looking for," Morax muttered. He then raised the mirror above his head, where it floated towards a pedestal that matched its design.

Four out of the nine mirrors had been found and Morax was quite happy about the performance of the people in the Dead Lands. 

"When everyone else is trying to gain my favor, he alone doesn't think too highly of me," Morax muttered as he sat on his chair. "This Half-Elf is either trying to anger me, playing hard to get, or simply doesn't care.

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