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... ian peak that pierced the clouds like a black spear, the air was perpetually thick with the coppery tang of blood and the faint, sickly sweet scent of rotting lotuses.
This was the territory of the Heaven-Slaughtering Demonic Sect, a place where the weak were fodder and the strong feasted on the souls and blood of the weak. All hail Mother Nature.
Within a cavernous hall carved from the living rock, illuminated by the eerie green glow of ghost fire, a group of figures sat to disc ...
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