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... otted the landscape, each stabbed with thousands of flying swords. These were tombs.
Each flying sword had a different form and aura from another – some were as thin as cicada wings, some were as big as door panels, some were wrapped with lightning, some were almost transparent, and some were still dripping blood.
All of these flying swords had achieved the status of being spirit treasures and yet, no one had ever possessed a single one of them, not even a Peak-Stage Primordial R ...
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