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... soon as his thoughts arrived, Yan Zhengming had already spoken for him.
Yan Zhengming held his hands on his chest, looked at Han Yuan almost sternly, and left his sabre aside. Only when the Master returned safely, he would kick the extravagant sabre into the pool. Inside-it was a sword that cut a mouse and poked a toad.
He said coldly, "Dare to venture into the mountain less than a month after you get started. Are you going to turn Fuyao Mountain into rice flour in the future? I t ...
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