The sky had deepened into a bruised purple, the clouds lit faintly by the last flickers of sunlight. Every hour that passed brought them closer to midnight—closer to the promised bombing that would level the city into dust.
Yunfeng and the others moved cautiously through the skeleton of the city, avoiding the main roads, ducking into alleyways, hugging the shadows. Each step was slow and deliberate. Each breath was a silent prayer.
The tire tracks at the mall—deep, hasty, and still fresh—were their only lead. They stretched across cracked pavement and past burnt-out cars, all pointing in one direction: the city barricade.
Yunfeng walked at the front, his weapon drawn but his eyes constantly scanning the horizon for any signs—of movement, of danger… of him.
