Yunfeng was pacing.
Back and forth across the narrow stretch of the room, his steps were light, but his body was tense. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he chewed it raw, over and over. His hands wouldn't stop twitching at his sides. The air in the house was thick, suffocating—every inhale tasted like dust and sweat and the faint metallic tang of fear. The walls seemed to press in closer with every passing second, the ceiling lowering like a slow, inevitable weight.
This… this was the worst possible situation.
They were surrounded. Outside this house, soldiers lurked, eyes watching, waiting. Yunfeng didn't know when, or even if, they would strike. And that was the problem—not knowing.
He had seen the way they moved—disciplined, silent, like shadows shifting just beyond the tree line. They weren't here by accident. This wasn't a routine patrol. They had been sent. And they were waiting for something.
Inside, their strongest people were compromised.
