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... knives, mercilessly slicing across Yan Song’s face, bringing with it the gravel and chill unique to the wastelands. He was held by the cold claws of the Silver-winged Demon, its scaly surface like needles tempered with ice, piercing the skin on his neck, making his breathing intermittently painful.
"Let go... let go of me!" Yan Song struggled violently, limbs flailing aimlessly, but the strength of the Silver-winged Demon was overwhelming, its grasp like iron pincers unmoved.
Fe ...
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