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... Rooftop
—
The spear tore through flesh, bone, and something denser.
Not cartilage. Not marrow. Something underneath that pulsed not with life, but with presence.
The sensation travelled up the shaft. Through my palm. Into my arm. Like I’d just driven the weapon through a living nerve.
Lao didn’t fall.
He dropped, yes—down to one knee, the right side of his body trembling, blade-arm twitching like a dying limb still wired to a corpse. But he didn’t ...
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