That's quite a scary thing to imagine. Ainsley would feel like sitting on lines and needles, and God knows whether she could sleep or not. Under such pressure, even an adult would be wide awake for days.
Their focus was actually on which spirit Ainsley made a pact with. It's a common knowledge that the strength of a shaman relied on the dead spirit that they managed to contract.
"No particular reason. Just please don't interrupt me while I'm talking. Isn't that the basics of politeness?" Erina glanced at Victoria and responded politely, but for some reason, an aura of coldness and aloofness emanated from her passively.
Ainsley gnawed the pillow and hit the bed with her tiny fists, wanting to vent her anger toward the Godfather because she simply couldn't beat the Godfather, right?
“I can’t help it! I didn’t change because I wanted to. Do you think I wanted to become servile? I want to be upright too. I want to act according to my ideals too. But you know better than anyone that business doesn’t always go the way you expect.”
His uncle, however, had struggled twice before him. The first time when he tried to complete the painting of a spear and failed, and the second time was when he revealed to Leonel that beneath his golden armor, he was entirely drenched in sweat.
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