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... u—”
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After a day of shouting, Zhao Jike’s throat was burning.
When he walked down the cliff, he saw countless burning eyes.
Who could endure more than 300 wails a day and interrupt their chance to comprehend and cultivate?
If it weren’t for the rules of this place, Zhao Jike’s legs would have been broken.
“Fellow Daoists, Wanhao City’s Zhao Jike has come to pay his respects. No, no. Greetings, greetings…” Zhao Jike cupped his hands in front of him ...
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