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... being pulled out, trailed by a stream of blood that was anything but graceful. At his age, even the amount of blood in Xiao En’s body was visibly less than that of a younger person.
Friar He, with his sword across his chest, floated back!
Xiao En sat on the ground, his withered right hand holding onto a branch as thick as one’s forearm. Before Friar He’s sword made contact, the old man somehow, giving up his left shoulder, struck the branch down hard at Friar He’s shin from ...
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