The warehouse held no cameras. No witnesses. Just echoes and metal beams. The kind of place built for death to go unnoticed.
Ravel moved like a wisp—silent, impossible to track. The knife flashed again, aimed straight for Lin Feng's neck.
But Lin Feng wasn't where he'd been.
He'd dropped.
Slid.
And swept low, smashing a pipe against Ravel's ankle.
The assassin stumbled, caught himself, then smiled.
"You're not just clever," Ravel said, circling. "You're trained."
Lin Feng didn't answer. He listened—to breath, to steel on concrete, to the shift of weight.
"You studied the old ways?" Ravel asked, almost conversational. "Urban combat theory? System-based counter-surveillance?"
Lin Feng's voice was low. "I survived people who trained you."
And then it was fast.
Brutal.
Ravel struck high, low, turned the knife mid-thrust—but Lin Feng anticipated every arc like he'd lived it once.
Steel grazed his ribs.
Lin Feng's elbow cracked into Ravel's jaw.
Both staggered back.
Crimson Circle HQ – Sublevel Archives
Xu Shanyue stared at the old files. Stamped ELIMINATED across names long thought gone.
But one file had no stamp. Only a code: R-5B.
"Ravel," she whispered.
Guo leaned in. "What does it mean?"
Xu's fingers traced the last line:
"Activated only upon survival anomaly: Class-GHOST."
Her blood ran cold.
"They wrote contingency plans in case someone like Lin Feng ever existed."
Guo looked at her. "Then who wrote the orders now?"
Xu didn't answer.
But the answer was in the next file—sealed in a folder labeled:
Project White Root – Circle Predecessor Directive.
Warehouse – Final Seconds
Ravel lunged again, faster now, knife slicing a flash across Lin Feng's forearm.
But Lin Feng dropped his weight, turned into the blow, and drove his shoulder into Ravel's gut—then slammed his knee into the man's wrist.
The knife clattered.
Lin Feng didn't wait.
He twisted, pressed the assassin's face into the concrete.
"You don't know this city," he hissed. "You don't hear it."
Ravel spat blood. "You'll burn either way. If not by me, then by the Circle that built you."
"What Circle?" Lin Feng whispered. "You're still fighting ghosts."
Then he brought his fist down—once.
Ravel stopped moving.
Later That Night – Crimson Circle Garden
Xu Shanyue arrived to find Lin Feng already waiting, coat bloodstained but eyes clear.
"You survived," she said.
"No," he replied. "We did."
He dropped Ravel's encrypted datachip on the table.
"Find who signed him. Not who paid—who cleared the contract."
Xu picked it up, studied him.
"What happens when we find out it wasn't Luo Zixuan?"
Lin Feng looked at the stars above Longhai.
"Then we stop playing defense."