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It was as if the storm was sneering at Song Yin's words, the downpour came crashing down, carrying with it gales so strong that the trees almost toppled over, spilling raindrops into the wooden shelter.
The large raindrops hit Song Yin's body, as well as those of the mortals, just like the nearly extinguished bonfire, under the assault of the wind and rain, the transformed wooden shelter seemed about to be blown away.
Under the assault of the wind and rain, their bodies were also drenched.
"Can you really manage it?"
In the midst of the storm, the youth, his eyes still spirited as if their essence hadn't been drained, mustered his courage and stammered out:
"Can you really manage it? Can you truly save us? In the end, you won't turn out to be like those people, claiming to save us, but in the end, we all turned into stones."