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... khaki uniform, a straw hat on his head, and puttees wrapped around his calves.
In his hand, he held an old rifle.
The bayonet was already fixed to the muzzle.
“Kid! Don’t worry, with me here, no scum will harm you!”
“Uncle, are you…?”
Zheng Cheng asked in surprise, but the man had already charged at one of the degenerates, piercing his chest.
“Hahaha, little scum! Come at me!”
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