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Shi Mu stood in front of a black hole in front of the pit. He was wrapped in a thick coat, with a wrinkled cyan map in his hand, his eyes flashing slightly.

The map was erratic as it was blown by the cold wind and there were about six or seven circles visible at the top, most of which had been painted over with an arc. However, there was only one that did not have an arc.

Standing still in front of the hole, he could feel a cold chilly rush to his bones. For a moment, his hai ...

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