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... elestial Mandate
A middle-aged man with temples touched by frost, clad in a green Confucian shirt, descended slowly from the dome of the great hall. He trod upon golden lotuses formed of words, resplendent characters flickering in and out of existence around him.
Sacred, bluish-purple Literary Qi surrounded him, and the sky above transformed into illusory images of green lotuses and purple mulberry trees. Even standing among the many officials, buffeted by the immense fortune of thei ...
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