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... got gravel on your face."
Then dumped more.
Qin Zhu lay there, breathing mud, limbs twitching.
No qi.
No power.
No glory.
Just dust, chains, and aching joints.
Qin Zhu spat out a clump of gravel.
His hands trembled.
Not from effort, but from the weight of a single, agonizing realization—
...
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