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...
Ye Xuan put away the Old Ghost’s willow branch and spoke calmly.
These words, of course, were about the white-haired woman, the Desolate Realm Sovereign.
As the words fell, the white-haired woman reappeared in the air.
The Ancient Battlefield resumed its usual state, desolate and lifeless.
In the white-haired woman’s hand, there was a small tree the size of a palm, lush and green, brimming with vitality.
The white-haired woman gently tossed it, and ...
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