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... Seeing the once confident young man like this, Uncle Yang cried, "Young Master, my condolences!"

The sixteen-year-old's eyes turned red at those words.

After a long time, Song Jingchen closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, his face had regained its usual calmness, as if what happened was just an illusion.

Turning his gaze to his legs, he murmured, "My legs are crippled now?"

It sounded like a question, but felt more like a statement.

Unc ...

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