The control chamber was silent.
Not quite—silent. The kind of silence that came after a storm, after systems failed and life-support fell still. Not even the hum of cooling fans disturbed the thick, humming air. The glow of emergency lights cast everything in red and shadow, flickering across cables and cables like veins in a dying beast.
A forest of shattered glass sparkled under Luo Jian’s bare feet as he paced between the skeletal remains of broken monitors, their cracked screens flickering with static. Blood marked each step he took, leaving red crescents behind him on the steel floor. He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did and no longer cared.
His coat, once a pristine white symbol of precision and vision, was now streaked with ash, oil, and old fire. A burn mark ran up his sleeve, and half of his collar was singed away. Still, he moved like a ghost haunting his sanctum.