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... en his handgun. That last one felt like the pill on top of a humongous pile of shit.

His killers had thoroughly searched his cold dead corpse, though they had enough decency to bury him with his shirt and pants instead of stripping him naked. Yuan might as well be. He had no money, no weapons, no supplies, and no means of transportation. A death sentence in the wasteland.

Revolver sensed his distress. “Those who buried you stole your iron.”

“They took everything,” Yuan re ...

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