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... odious voice sounded over the storm.
Her voice drowned out the other noises as the words registered in Fang Lang’s ears.
A storm, a lady and an oil-paper umbrella—the three elements would make a beautiful ink wash painting.
Fang Lang lowered his blade, a smile spread across his face.
“Jiang Linglong… What a beautiful name,” Fang Lang said softly.
He stared straight into her starry eyes.
He had seen her on the practice grounds of Luojian ...
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