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On the stage, Lu Yuling's white skirt was like snow, rising slightly under the breeze, exuding a cool aura, like a lonely moon in the sky, and like a snow lotus on the top of an iceberg.

In front of her, Ling Wufeng stood upright. Although he was only fourteen or fifteen years old, Ling Wufeng's figure was more slender than ordinary people. His white hands were enough to make most women envious. The flying knife turned flexibly, and his fingers danced with t ...

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