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... deepest chamber. He was a middle-aged Sword Cultivator, his eyes like twin seas of swords, casting endless sword shadows wherever he gazed.
"Qian Die?" he paused at a spot, his expression turning icy as he picked up a piece of azure fabric from the ground. His face grew dark and cold.
"Bold indeed, to dare kill one of my Eternal Sword Prison disciples," he narrowed his eyes, his nose twitching slightly. Smirking wickedly, he said, "The scent of a devil? So, the Endless Netherwor ...
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