Old Haunts

West of Yehuai City, Yangliu Quarter, the slums.

Creak... A barely audible sound rang out. Yang Lan strained her arm and pushed open a tiny crack in the window, peering out to survey the world.

A jumble of ramshackle houses, narrow and cramped alleys, filth and sewage running everywhere, and poor families hurrying along with sallow faces formed the slums' basic palette.

But Yang Lan had no time to concern herself with any of that.

She narrowed her eyes and focused on a pointed tower several dozen meters away. After watching it for a while, she let out a slow sigh.

As one of the survivors from the White Crane Merchant Association's Yehuai outpost, Yang Lan had slipped into Yehuai City after breaking through the enemy lines. She hoped to use the vast city of a million people to erase every trace of herself and evade the unknown power's continued pursuit.

The plan had worked well enough to keep her from being wiped out right away.

But the enemy seemed to have deep roots in Yehuai. No matter where Yang Lan hid, she was always discovered in an astonishingly short time.

After relying on caution and luck to evade the first few attempts on her life, she had gained a vague understanding of this enemy power. She became even more cautious, almost neurotically trusting her martial artist's instincts. The moment anything felt wrong, she moved.

That was how Yang Lan had managed to survive for sixteen days.

And in that time, she had not only kept herself alive, but gathered a team around her. Its members were much like her: insignificant survivors left behind after that wicked power destroyed their own factions.

"Miss Yang, how is it?

"Did anyone notice our signal?"

Behind Yang Lan, a weathered man of average