The night was thick with tension as Yang Wei's men advanced through the outskirts of Wuhan. The dim moonlight cast long shadows across the desolate industrial district, a perfect setting for a confrontation that had been brewing for far too long. They were closing in on the warehouse where Huang Yanyan was being held, the result of hours of careful planning and tracking. Every movement was precise, every step deliberate. Yang Wei's men were a far cry from ordinary civilians—they were highly trained operatives, men who had once served under him in his former life as the king of Island B, and they were more than ready to do whatever it took to bring Yanyan home.
Lao Zhang, Yang Wei's trusted lieutenant, crouched low as he surveyed the warehouse from a distance. His earpiece crackled softly as he received updates from the men stationed around the perimeter. "We have a visual," one of the operatives whispered. "Multiple guards, lightly armed but spread out. Xie Liang is inside."
