PREVIEW

... illiance flashes across the azure sky like lightning.

Enshrouded in mist, Mo Wuzhou seems a faint white cloud, his gaze locked from afar on the path of the emerald messenger bird.

A quarter of an hour later, the bird flies into a dense forest and, when it reappears, the small bamboo cylinder tied to its leg has vanished.

Above the clouds, Mo Wuzhou frowns deeply, "The Lower Courtyard of Gan River has just been established; which Dao Sect is this well-informed?"

"O ...

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