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... abdomen closing to his chest reminded him of the battle. The room was unfamiliar, yet peaceful. He touched his abdomen, feeling the bruises beneath his fingertips—his wounds had mostly healed, but the pain still lingered, sharp and real.
"My injuries..." he muttered, his hand resting on his abdomen, where the blade had struck him. Gritting his teeth, he could still feel the phantom pain of that fatal blow.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Wong, the Tibetan magic ...
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