The Kamo River glittered under Kyoto's moonlit sky, a deceptive calm mirroring the tension coiled tight in the cramped apartment safehouse. Feng Ruoxi stood by the window, the phoenix pendant clutched in her fist, its jade surface warm as her mark pulsed faintly against her wrist. Liang Tianhua's voice lingered in her mind—"The phoenix burns bright, but Beijing waits"—a taunt delivered through Tanaka's hijacked radio, followed by that fleeting shadow on the rooftop across the river. Her blood hummed, the golden-eyed woman's warning a quiet echo: "The hunter is caged, but the master stirs."
Jiang Yukang joined her, his pistol still in hand, his dark eyes scanning the skyline where the figure had vanished. "He's playing with us," he said, voice low and edged with steel, the kingpin's calm fraying at the seams. "Tianhua's too smart to show his hand this early."
