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... a tapestry, dyeing the sky a shade of orange-red.
The setting sun was like blood, slowly sinking among the undulating hills.
A majestic horse, like black lightning, sped along the winding path, its hooves clattering sharply, breaking the silence of the mountains.
Shen Qing was dressed in a tight-fitting garment, its hem fluttering with the wind.
He held the reins tightly with one hand, a hint of rugged heroism on his dust-covered face.
At this moment, Shen ...
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