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Time passed quickly, and two months had passed in the blink of an eye. It was now autumn, and the weather was getting a little cooler. Relying on killing poultry in the slaughterhouse, Zhou Peng had reached level five, that is, the fifth level of a martial artist. Such a speed would make any so - called genius ashamed. For him, there was no bottleneck at all. At noon that day, as usual, he was busy running around in the Furong Restaurant. Zhang Dafu really didn't treat Zhou Peng as a human ...

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