Dias had never felt death so close to him.
He was abandoned by a large merchant ship, his boat was overturned by the Ming army, and he fell into the sea. He always believed that he would survive and that God would care for his people.
At this moment, he was not sure.
The cold blade was pressed in front of him, and blood seemed to flash on the blade.
Diaz's hands and feet were cold, and he was not sure whether the scythe of death was already aimed at his neck.
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