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... the air.
"Okay, you've done your work."
When Murong Ying waved her hand, the green mirror became the size of a slap, and flew back to Murong Ying's palm, which was hung by her waist.
"It doesn't matter if the algorithm is broken."
Zhu Ling quickly reminded Murong Ying, "Sacrifice your rituals, otherwise you will die in this thunderstorm!"
"I want to see it!"
Murong Ying also has a temper, and the ninth wave of thunder, how can you get yourself?
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