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... lling thunderclouds had not scattered, and the might of the heavens was still fermenting.

The dust settled, and in the trench nearly a hundred zhang deep, the figure of Night Monarch was nowhere to be seen.

Fang Wang floated in the air, raised his hand and beckoned, drawing a Golden Silk Storage Bag into his grasp.

A wave of wind swept towards him, which he did not resist because it was the Sword Intent of Night Monarch.

Night Monarch had not lied; if he died, he ...

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