“…Don’t cry.” Avery reluctantly patted Kylan lying in his arms. This little fat guy cried endlessly, and choked with every story.
Kylan sniffed, raised his head and asked, “Master, I will never be a spectator again next time!”
Avery smiled lovingly, rubbed his little head, and was about to speak, suddenly frowned slightly. Kylan found that his master was in a bad mood, and asked quickly: “What’s the problem, master?”
“Something is wrong.” Avery put Kylan down, lost in thought. She rarely felt such strong fluctuations, pinching her fingers, and whispering: “What’s going on…”
“the host?”
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