The roc rises in the wind one day and soars up to ninety thousand miles. The Prodigal Son Sword is good at killing enemies. The bright moon flute softens my heart. Drunk and lying on the beauty's knees, her hands are stranded with green hair. Smiling with pursed lips, the Supreme Being is ruthless, and God treats all things as stupid dogs. Selfless, selfless, selfless, and selfless.
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