The half-collapsed storehouse stank of old grain and mold, but the ten figures inside treated it as if it were a war hall. Knees dug into dirt. Heads bowed. They barely dared breathe. The small flame in the corner flickered weakly, painting their faces in jagged light.
Zheng Huang stepped into the threshold.
The moment his boots scraped the ground, the murmurs died.
Not because of loyalt,rather the men gathered here were frightened creatures searching for the first shadow that looked strong enough to follow.
Zheng pulled down his hood, revealing a face still marked with dust and dried blood from the earlier clash.
"Straighten your backs," he said. "You kneel as though awaiting a funeral."
One of the older fighters, a scarred man named Ge Shan began slowly lifted his head. "Lieutenant… you summoned us with urgency."
