Song Ning did not hesitate. She rose and put her gear in order.
She had left her helmet at the previous intersection as a marker, but she had been unwilling to discard the oxygen apparatus and strapped it onto her back again.
After tightening her straps and shoelaces, she jumped down from the second floor and ran into the thick fog.
Daylight had fully broken, so she no longer had to find her way in the dark.
But she could only see six or seven meters ahead and behind her. Beyond that, everything was a sea of white.
The fog became her greatest obstacle.
It also became her greatest protection.
Before long, however, she realized she had lost her bearings.
The whistle had never given her a particularly clear sense of direction.
Now, after walking some distance into the white fog, she felt as though she had entered a vast, pale chaos.
In this shantytown, with intersections everywhere, there was no way to tell which direction she was going.
The whistle calling for help meant there were very likely enemies here.
Song Ning dared not call out, either.
She held her pistol up, carefully watching everything around her.
Until-
She spotted a drop of dark red blood in the middle of the road.
Song Ning's heart tightened. She swiftly tightened her grip on the gun and lightened her footsteps.
Everything ahead and behind remained silent, with only the fog thickening around her.
Starting from that drop of blood, she searched in every direction.
Finally, she found another drop in front of a corrugated-metal shack a dozen meters ahead and to her right.
Song Ning looked up and examined the shack.
It backed onto a large locust tree.
The trunk was thick and tall, clearly showing its age.
She had not