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... its peaks carved as if by blade or ax, the jagged cliffs shimmered in the sunlight with a cold, iron-like azure tint.
An eagle skimmed over a solitary pine, its wings slicing through the clouds, shaking off a feather that slowly drifted towards the mist swirling in the valley.
Qin An paused at the mountain’s base, the cold wind blowing against him, his eyes sharp as electricity, he whispered, "Indeed, a fitting place for a burial."
This place was far from Lingzhou, seldom ...
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