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... orward, his Golden Scale White Feather Robe stained with fresh blood, and even his face bore traces of blood; Xiao Zi lay on his shoulder, similarly drenched in blood.
He sat down in front of a large stone, the remaining sunlight of the setting sun cast upon him, casting half of his face into shadow. Between him and the sunset, among the mountains, lay the gigantic bodies of poisonous insects and the corpses of Green Cicada Valley Demonic Cultivators, a sight that shook the soul.
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