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... echoing amid the pile of bodies, uncertain of how many corpses or wounded soldiers were jostling with each bump.
The severed hand at the top happened to fall onto his chest, its skin cold, and its nails embedded with dried blood.
"Water, water..."
He licked his cracked lips, the oilcloth in front of him was shrouded in a layer of bloody light from thirst.
Where is this place? Gradually awakening from sleep, Old Laver looked around, unable to suppress his astonishm ...
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