Six hundred meters away from the concrete bunker, hidden deep within the fog-heavy cliffside brush, the interior of Yang Muchen's tactical command van was a silent nerve center bathed in the cold, blue glow of multiple tracking screens.
His hands were gripped so tightly around the edges of the steering console that his knuckles groaned. His eyes, dark and unblinking, were locked onto the real-time thermal lenses displaying the facility's subterranean corridor.
On the primary display, two bright red heat signatures—the patrolling internal guards—were moving steadily down the eastern hallway. They were exactly seven seconds away from rounding the final corner into the vault corridor where Chen Ying stood completely weaponless.
