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... the edge of the cliff, only rocks and dirt. Earlier he looked rather presentable, but now his hair was askew, his robe untied, and one side of his face was smeared with a large patch of yellow mud.

He trembled with anger, shakily instructing someone to chase after Fu Zhen, but how could they catch up?

The servants made a show of it but, seeing the ruins from afar, dared not go any further.

Fu Yun had lived for thirty-five years without anyone ever laying a finger on him! ...

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