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... ad risen.
When the convoy arrived at the designated stream for crossing, Old Laver kept his head down, avoiding Bether's sullen expression.
But he could hear the rushing sound of the water.
Pulling back the hood that covered his eyes, Old Laver couldn't help but let out a "tsk tsk" sigh.
Oak branches carried by the upstream current tangled with a broken fishing net, intermittently appearing in the muddy whirlpool.
The stream, once crystal clear, now resemb ...
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