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... rful aura surged out of him. This was the aura of a Quasi-Saint Seat. The sheer pressure was almost too much for his dantian to bear, but he managed to hold on.

Yet, the three sect leaders were not intimidated. Instead, they smirked, “Is that so? Stop pretending. Why don’t we have a contest? If you still have your strength, we’ll leave immediately without a word. Otherwise, don’t blame us for helping manage the city.”

“You…” Sandy Wexler spat blood out of anger, but there was not ...

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