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... flesh meeting flesh echoed sharply through the dim alley, punctuated by a soft groan. Fang Ming crumpled to the ground like a shrimp, his body shaking violently as though wracked with pain. His trembling was exaggerated, each movement calculated to appear weak, broken—pitiful.
It worked.
The young Chinese boy who led the gang took a step back, his fists lowering, uncertain. To the gang, it looked as though they had nearly beaten Jin to death.
"Pah!" the leader spat on th ...
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