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"Drip, drip."
One drop of fresh blood after another fell from the severed head, landing on the ground.
Lu Changsheng had returned to Beiling City.
In his hand, he carried Sheng Yuan’s severed head, step by step heading toward the martial arts practice building.
"It’s him again, Sword Twelve. Why does he only have one head this time?"
"Yeah, isn’t it his habit to always bring back dozens of Northern Barbarian heads? Why only one this time?" < ...
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