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Su Wanjun stood atop the waves, unmoving as the coursing river lapped at her fair, delicate, unshod feet.
The dreamlike red sword qi in her hand silently transformed, becoming more solid, like a real sword. It emanated a heart-palpitating crimson sword rain.
The young monk clasped his palms and said, “If we fight here, I’ll be like a dragon returning to the sea, but as someone from the Far Shore of Destiny, I’m afraid you’ll face a backlash from the natural order.”
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