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... she had already been accidentally injured several times before: bumped into by someone, struck with weapons.
This time, she had been hit by a bullet.
Zhao Yi clutched her left arm, her face somewhat pale.
She picked up a rifle that had fallen to the ground, then bent down and carefully skirted around the melee, finding a small, deserted slope outside the highway to hide behind.
Subsequently, she gritted her teeth against the excruciating pain, set up the rifle in ...
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