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... ick appeared in front of him.
The long stick was extremely black, and the top was polished into an eight-edged shape.
The octagonal stick roared with a gust of wind and smashed into his chest.
Zhang Rongfang leaned back and watched the stick pass through the tip of his nose.
Suddenly the long stick changed direction temporarily and pressed down.
!
The stick hit the ground, splashing mud.
Zhang Rongfang had already moved away from ...
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