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... path.
Zhao Yan, Wei Ling, and Deng Mi limped forward, their robes tattered and their bodies black and blue from the savage ambush. The wind stung their open wounds, and every step felt like dragging mountains behind their heels.
Zhao Yan’s breathing was heavy.
Labored.
Then, a wave of nausea.
It slammed into him without warning, his vision blurring as the world tilted sideways.
Wei Ling, ever sharp despite his injuries, saw it. "Your Majesty!" he ...
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