Gan Ning stood under a soul-returning Yang.

There was no one around. Because of the winter hunting, the small animals in the forest had already run away. Only the arrogant aura of the ogres in the distance, like a fire in the dark night, was particularly eye-catching.

He sighed lightly, took off his mask, and together with the black feather cloak on his body, carefully folded it carefully, put it away, put on an ordinary black velvet cloak, and dug out an ordinary magic book. Book.

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