Time is like a white horse passing a horse, one hundred thousand years have passed.

Qinglian Island, Jiugong Peak.

In a secret room, Wang Qiulin sat cross-legged on a golden futon, his eyes were slightly closed, his body was covered with a golden glow, behind him was a huge golden round wheel, and the golden round wheel slowly turned. This was the wheel of fate.

After a while, a sound transmission paper crane flew in, hovering in the void above his head.

Wang Qiulin seemed to have noticed that the golden color on his body surface

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