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... simply blinked and tilted her head slightly, puzzled.

“Is he... not a master?”

The man had drawn a blade and strutted about like he was the top of Murim, but to someone like her, at best he might be a first-rate fighter. No wonder it seemed strange.

Seol Iri was a peak-stage martial artist.

To Qing’s eyes, she was just a fledgling who barely clawed her way into peak-level—but by Central Plains standards, she was already a respectable young expert.

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