"Yes, I have seen it." The male villager grabbed You Huo's hand.
His palms were as rough as sandpaper, making his skin sore, hard and cold.
Declan withdrew his hand, his face looking very ugly.
"Where have you seen it?" he asked, flexing his wrist.
The male villager stood there and thought blankly for two seconds. As if he didn't hear the question, he repeated: "I must have seen it... I have seen it."
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