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... all directions.
It was as if it had consciousness.
But rather than calling it consciousness, it was more like instinct.
The misty smoke tried to shrink in, trying to gather into one.
However, the chanting from the mountaintop continued to spread down like a torrential flood, constantly washing away the smoke.
Under the washing of the chanting, the black smoke gradually faded and became transparent.
Wisps of black pollution evaporated from it and we ...
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