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... they pulled back Xiang Ying’s blanket, they found her clutching an iron object in her arms.
Question marks popped up over the heads of a few people one after another.
"What is this?"
One of them leaned in close to observe and hissed, "It seems like a firearm."
A cold voice, tinged with a hint of weariness, resounded above their heads.
"You’re not wrong; this is a firearm, the kind that can blast you straight to meet your dead ancestors."
The assas ...
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