
The Astarte of the B
Word count: not counted
state:serializing
author: What are you doing?
The farmer, leaning on his hoe, let out a couple of snorts and spat a mouthful of phlegm onto the ground, tilting his head.,But Bolton's words treat it as just a lump of meat.,"Let's stop for a moment, we can't just kill him like this. Murder itself leaves traces, doesn't it"。