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... ing to die, I’m going to die."
Yan Song, holding a blood-dripped broken spear and waving the Blood Flag high, looked majestic for a moment. Yet his knees were trembling; he knew he couldn’t stop the frenzied onslaught of the incensed Jackal-Men ahead by himself.
He was just a weak psychic scout, and his expensive gun purchased for protection was destroyed in the recent meteor strike. Any of those elite Jackal-Men could easily kill him with one hand.
What am I doing?
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