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Chapter 170 The Person Who Goes to the Battlefield

Heavy rain fell on Zhao Polu, drenching his long hair and outlining the cold and sharp edges and corners of the crossbow incisively and vividly. It was obvious a magic treasure with high class-ranking.

The long sword of the black-robed Taoist hung over Zhao Polu's head, and his action paused. His features stiffened immediately as the crossbow shot through his throat flying dozens of steps behind his head. Before he struggled to make a sound, he flew backward because of the great power of the crossbow. He fell on the ground heavily, causing muddy water everywhere.

"You..." The Taoist let out a fuzzy voice, struggling to raise his upper body. Before he could say the second word, he fell feebly without any movement.

Zhao Polu stood up and took back the long spear that had been with him for years. He stood still in the night rain in the wilderness, his body as straight as a javelin.

The heavy rain surrounded him, and his companions

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