Chapter Content
Chen Ling’s body bore at least seven or eight knife wounds, and there was even a bullet hole in his shoulder… His face was smeared with blood and exhaustion, beads of sweat the size of peas rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto the barren earth.
Wen Shilin was stunned. He stared blankly at the unnaturally twisted left hand, his eyes filled with disbelief.
"Your hand…"
...
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