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The wind howled atop Mount Hengduan, ancient and aloof, dragging with it the dirges of the sects.

Beneath a cliff veined with frozen lightning, where cranes no longer nested and peach blossoms bloomed no more, Elder Wang knelt alone.

Snow crusted his beard, blood stained his sleeves.

Around him, the corpses of his disciples and his own son lay like wilted lotus petals, shattered, sprawled, and disrespected.

Above, spiritual crows with eyes ...

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