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... ommand_3
Cold...
No warmth to the touch.
The arm in the palm felt like a corpse, as if the blood had stopped flowing. The Storyteller closed his eyes heavily, saying nothing more.
"Push me... a little..."
Bazhun’an’s voice was incredibly weak.
So weak that if seen from the front, his dirty and unclear face seemed somewhat senile.
"How to push?"
"With your hand..."
"How much strength?"
"Seven parts..."
Seve ...
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