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It was already late at night. Fan Xian stood alone by the side of the sword pit, looking in a daze at the densely packed swords in the pit, which stood like wheat, as well as like the tips of trees pointing into the sky. Where he stood just happened to be where Thirteenth Wang had stood earlier. When he had been having his last conversation with Sigu Jian, he could faintly hear Thirteenth Wang’s soundless cries. Although seemingly soundless, they actually had some ...
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