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... undreds of thin bone thorns, like hundreds of white whiskers, suddenly pierced his arm.
At the same time, the broken arm of this extraterritorial demon, like a living creature, struggled violently in his hands.
"Zheng Zheng Zheng Zheng..."
The thin spines kept hitting and stabbing on Weisuo's arm, making the sound of steel needles hitting on the divine iron. Weisuo was wearing a piece of ordinary French clothes, and there were countless holes in his sleeve, ...
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