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Before his death, the monk sighed: The two of them had been practicing Taoism since childhood. Along the way, they had gone through many life and death battles, but they never died. But more than two hundred years of friendship are no more than a secret book. Cultivating the Tao, cultivating the Tao, the Tao gradually approaches, but the love has dispersed. That's all, it's just my obsession. Cultivation is inherently ruthless, so why force it? I wish to be a mortal in the next life and never practice Taoism again!...