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... d some cultivation later...
The incense had long since burned down to twisted threads, the bed of phoenix silk soaked in heavenly ruin and the weight of fulfilled sin, and Zhao Fan now sat at the edge of the ruined mattress.
His posture was upright, his robes loosely draped across his shoulders, not bothering to hide the faint glow of yang qi still emanating from his skin like heat off divine metal.
And beside him, the Immortal Master knelt on the floor with her legs fold ...
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