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258. Silence After Fire
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259. And Still the Blossoms Fall
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Even now, with the battle finally stilled, his mind refused to rest. It ticked like a water clock, mapping bodies, tracking breath patterns, cataloguing damage.
He limped forward through the wreckage, ribs cracked, flesh torn, demonic qi worming its way into every cut like black veins in marble. A lesser man would have collapsed. A wiser one might have stopped. But Xu Ziqing was neither in this moment. He pressed on.
Because Xu Ziqing had made a promise. Perhaps not aloud, bu ...
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