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"It seems I really have traveled through time—"
In the luxuriously adorned carriage, Zong Shou stared expressionlessly at the round mirror before him.
The reflection showed a young boy, not yet of age—about thirteen. His complexion was pale, but his features were rarely delicate and exceedingly fine.
A pair of narrow phoenix eyes sparkled brilliantly. However, at the moment, they were full of bitterness and helplessness.
He remembered that not long ago, he had an utterly ordinary face, the kind that could never be found if lost in a crowd.
