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Wei Bushi watched Yuan Tiandao light incense and candles, observing his nine ritual bows, before finally presenting the treasure.
It was a scroll, but only a broken corner remained, shrouded in an indescribable immortal spiritual qi.
The old blind man, without eyes, stepped like a shaman in a mysterious dance,
muttering ancient and cryptic language,
as if the sound of thundering heavens.
A wisp of plague energy infused the corner of the celestial boo ...
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