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... ast skies, which is considered a kind of luck.
"It's over!"
At this moment, a gentle whisper resounded, seemingly drawing a period at the end of this magical combat.
The Spiritual Light surrounding Ma Buting became ever denser, his right palm fell like a knife, slowly descending, the terrifying blade light soared into the sky, turning silver-white, swallowing Zhang Fan's figure.
The air within a hundred meters began to freeze, frosty white, surging like tides.
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