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... heart trembled.
Han Luo’s soul... in the Nether River?
He looked at the crimson, murky river in front of him, the seemingly endless wide river surface, his fingers holding the mouse trembled slightly.
All along, he carried a sense of guilt about Han Luo’s death, like a soldier who survived the battlefield, always asking why he survived and not his comrades.
Did Xiao Jie also ask himself that question? After all, Han Luo died following him on this adventure.
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