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... e; a few tattered, withered leaves clung to the branches, rustling in the wind with a low, desolate sound.
It was like an ancient elegy echoing in the emptiness, heavy with desolation and stillness.
In such an environment, it seemed as if time itself had come to a halt, with only the sound of the wind narrating the vicissitudes and changes of the years.
Chen Yun followed the scent and footprints, slowly walking through the dense forest.
A large area of soft, rotti ...
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