"Where is Mr. Meng's ship convoy now?" A cool, clear female voice rang out in the darkness.
"About half a night's journey from New Bangkok." A male voice responded, his deep tone breaking the darkness as a screen lit up. On the map displayed, the light representing the convoy inched northward, slow but resolute.
"Mr. Meng has sent word—Malin, the one who saved New Bangkok ten years ago, is on their convoy. According to intelligence agents from Westland, ten years ago, this child didn't even make it into the public eye." The clear female voice fell silent here, as another screen lit up.
