The Last Directive

The command center was swallowed by darkness, the only light a faint, flickering glow from emergency backup bulbs struggling against the encroaching blackness. The hum of ancient machinery had long since died down, leaving only silence, heavy and suffocating. Luo Jian sat alone in the vast room, shadows folding around him like a cloak. His fingers drummed an uneasy rhythm on the cracked wooden desk, each tap a measured beat that echoed the faint tick of a hidden Geiger counter buried somewhere beneath the concrete floor.

The stale air smelled of burnt ozone and old electronics, a bitter reminder that this place, once the throbbing heart of the Nine Dragons’ empire, was now a tomb for secrets and dying ambitions. Luo Jian’s mind raced, tangled with memories from a lifetime of shadows and betrayals, blurring the lines between past regrets and the grim present.