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... like a gentle breeze sweeping over the hills, stabilizing the injuries of each disciple.
"The Sect Master really trusts us. If we fail to save them, that would mean the lives of thousands of disciples..."
Weng Wuyu held his peach wood staff, took a deep breath.
Zhang Qing Zheng frowned, paying him no mind.
If we can’t save them, it’s your incompetence. What does it have to do with me, Zhang Qing Zheng?
Meanwhile, above the vault of heaven.
The flee ...
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