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... ?"
The original form of white ink lingered on the bed, heard the problem of Yunrong, subconsciously shrinking, like an old hen holding a nest, feathers trembled: "No one told me, I saw it myself."
"Don't dare to lie to me?" The anger of Yunrong just came out again, and the aura of his hand suddenly turned into a long whip, and he rushed toward the white ink. "You have lived for three hundred years. Where do you see these?"
The white ink slammed his wings to escape the whips ...
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~ postscript
