Sure, here's the translation:
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Where the Sword Rain passed, space seemed like fragile paper, shredded to pieces.
Black space fissures spread like grim wounds, emitting sharp, ear-piercing tears, akin to space howling in pain.
This sound intertwined, resembling the doomsday symphony, causing heaven and earth to tremble under this fierce attack, as if they would be pulverized in the next instant by this endless Power of Destruction.
Witnessing this, everyone feels an illusion of their scalp tingling and chills down their spine, holding their breath, not daring to breathe heavily...
Yet Xu Wendong stood amidst this seemingly apocalyptic Sword Rain, like an unchanging, ancient, towering sacred mountain, standing quietly.
His gaze was profound and calm, like an unperturbed ancient well, devoid of any fear or panic, as if everything before him was nothing more than fleeting moments.
