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... arly, he was getting impatient, or seeing that the plan to buy time was not working as well as he hoped, he would throw a knife, trying to get the upper hand.

His sword flashed as he dashed forward, the dirt beneath his feet scattering from the force of his movement, leaving a clear imprint on the ground.

The masked cultivator flicked his wrist, sending another poisoned knife whistling through the air, but Cheng tilted his head just slightly. The blade zipped past his ear, embedd ...

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