The first part of Ethan's body to wake up was his waist. The excruciating pain gave him the illusion that he had been chopped in half, hastily put together, and then wrapped in a straw mat and left exposed in the wilderness.
Then, the poem suddenly popped into his mind again, like a giant hand holding ice chips reaching into his head and stirring vigorously. Ethan had a headache so much that his teeth were chattering and his mouth was sour. He just wanted to drink some water to extinguish the dark fire burning in his chest.
Who would have thought that as soon as he made a move to stand up, a hand held his rock-hard waist muscles and gently rubbed them twice: "Brother, what do you want?"
As soon as Ethan opened his mouth, he felt the fatigue all over his body spread to the muscles in his neck, and even making a sound was difficult.
He could only condense the sentence to the bare minimum: "...water."
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