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On the open ground in front of Dawei’s camp, a conical heap of miscellaneous weeds and timbers was arranged.
Atop the cone lay two corpses.
One was Yan Jing, another was Cong Ge.
Yan Wanqing expressionlessly took a torch from a soldier’s hand, stepped forward slowly, and the firelight cast her countenance as bewitching as a demon.
Uncle, Cong Ge, it was I who harmed you. After today, I will abandon all mercy and leave no room for it, no longer believing in an ...
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