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... the mountains stretched endlessly, the clouds drifting leisurely.
Inside the high-speed train, Zhang Fan’s eyelids drooped as if half-open, resembling the clay statues of Gods and Buddhas in temples, with only a ray of celestial light shining through.
Three feet overhead, his Primordial Spirit sat in meditation, with peculiar ripples continuously spreading around, expanding further and further, searching for traces of the Evil God, but after a long time, finding nothing.
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