The shrieking electronic siren, relentless as diamond-tipped needles, drilled into Chen Mo’s skull, churning his brain into a cacophony of dissonant hums. He bore Zhang Hui’s icy, rigid form through the labyrinthine, dimly lit passages of the annex’s underbelly, a fugitive fleeing through veins of concrete. Each heavy footfall slapped against frigid, slick terrazzo, splattering murky water. Agony in his right shoulder pulsed like a scorching brand; every breath tore at the lacerated wound, tasting of iron-rich blood. Zhang Hui’s respiration against his neck was a guttering candle flame, perilously close to extinction.
Behind him, Hu Qiang’s demonic roars and thunderous footfalls echoed like vengeful spirits through the corridor depths, closing in! Farther off, from the main building,
