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“Lord Cangsheng, has stopped…”
The image on the Dao Imparting Mirror from the Southern Region unexpectedly vanished for a moment.
When it reconnected, everyone saw Ai Cangsheng, sitting upright on a wheelchair made of osmanthus wood.
He sat in the Southern Region as if he were seated on a fine morning at the Sacred Mountain Gui Zhe, in front of the Saint Hall.
His face bore neither sorrow nor joy.
His gaze was calm and unruffled.
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