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... n swung his sword every night in order to forget that memory. Yet, they would never fade away.

Martial artists, who had no will of their own other than performing their art. Yet, those memories were like shadows, ink on the page.

Muyeon’s sword was similar to that.

That was the essence of Muyeon’s current sword.

A hollow sword that had no purpose.

He was just swinging it. That’s why no matter how many hundreds or thousands of times he swung the sword, the memory wou ...

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