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... ed their cultivation and did not know their roots.

   Qi refining level 4 or above cultivation level, direct control of Qi and lift into the air, without sparing the use of magic power, it is considered a big money in casual cultivation.

  The imperial energy is different from the imperial weapon. The former consumes a lot of mana, while the latter consumes less.

   "Among the four, there should be a sixth level of Qi Refining."

  Li Qing couldn't help thinking: "Is t ...

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In the year 1266, the tale of Conradin, the last scion of an ancient imperial dynasty, unfolds. His once-great kingdom, Sicily, has been ruthlessly usurped first by his own uncle and now rests in the hands of the cunning French Count Charles. Through a treacherous plot involving the Pope, Charles managed to oust the Hohenstaufen from the Kingdom of Sicily and crowned himself as its king.

In the East, powers such as the Despotate of Epirus are keenly observing the instability in Sicily, poised to seize any advantage that may arise from the chaos. Meanwhile, the small Italian communes are caught in the political crossfire, aligning themselves with one side of the conflict or the other based on the prevailing political party in power and their vested interests. These shifting allegiances turn the Italian peninsula into a powder keg, where all-out war seems inevitable.

As the shadows of history close in around Conradin, the world watches with bated breath. Will he emerge triumphant, his name forever etched in the annals of Sicilian glory as the rightful king who defied insurmountable odds, toppling both the Pope and the usurper? Or will he, in his valiant struggle, become a tragic figure, a symbol of lost opportunities and shattered dreams? The future of Sicily hangs in the balance, and Conradin's destiny remains uncertain, poised on the precipice of history.

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When Shen Suhe opened his eyes, he saw a delicate woman banging her head against a pillar rather than die, and scolding her as a bastard to take over the girls on the street!

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Su Ye rested on Shen Suhe’s shoulder, his hands were stained with blood, but he still looked weak and aggrieved: “Ahe, your hands hurt.”

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Su Ye’s hostility instantly dissipated: “Ahe, you are mine~”

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