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... able to understand these words.

As the national fate descended, it was less than a hundred meters away from the altar.

Leocadio kneeled on the ground; his teeth were bleeding, and his eyes were red. He pressed his palms on the ground, looking like a dog.

Sooner or later, he would be completely crushed by the fate of the country.

Braydon Neal looked at him and said softly, “Marshland chose the son of the country’s fate and didn’t avoid choosing relatives. You, the ...

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