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... de dais at the center, forming a silent council. One by one, the elders took their places.

A withered old man wreathed in golden qi sat at the central throne. His robe shimmered with subtle Dao patterns, and an ancient azure dragon coiled in silence across his sleeves. His aura was deep and placid, like an ocean under moonlight—but anyone who dared probe it would feel a bone-chilling pressure sink into their soul.

He was the sect master Mo Yuntian, a famed late-stage Nascent Soul ...

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