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Chapter 169
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... ith arrogance, the more concerned I became. The memory flashed before my eyes of the mercenary commander who had once boasted of a verse as if it was a high treasure from heaven, and yet it proved so crude that it could barely be called a dance poem.
“Then I’ll start,” said Antoine as he drew his sword, his great arrogance clearly bringing him satisfaction.
‘Chaha!’ his sword aura bloomed over his blade as his qi noisily synthesized.
I recognized it as the swordsmanship o ...
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