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... veral soldiers rushed up, screaming at the thousands of inks in a malicious way. The thousands of inks were like an iron man who did not know the pain. They met the swords of these people. Every shot was a direct blow. The soldiers fell to the ground one after another, and his body had already cracked his wounds and oozing blood outside.

His eyes are more bloodthirsty and cold, and the fist knuckles are all blood, like a person coming out of hell.

Here, it is not that no slaves hav ...

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