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... Yang Hao stood frozen, his breath ragged. The room was a slaughterhouse. Chunks of raw meat and splintered bone littered the floor. A mangled hand lay near his foot, fingers curled inward. Blood soaked the wooden planks, pooling in sticky puddles that reflected the dim light. Pieces of intestine draped over a chair like a wet rope. A jagged rib fragment jutted from the wall beside him, embedded in the plaster. The air stank of iron and bile.

He lifted a trembling hand to his face. His fi ...

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