The morning sun filtering through the classroom window felt like a lie.
After the electric chaos of the casino, the quiet drone of Mr. Yun's history lesson on the economic policies of the Tang Dynasty was almost surreal.
Yuhon fought to keep his eyes open.
Across the aisle, Mei was taking notes with her usual fierce concentration, while Jin was already doodling a fantastical version of the Grinning Fox battling a dragon in the margins of his textbook.
Mr. Yun was a new substitute, a blandly handsome man with a perpetually calm smile and glasses that hid his eyes.
He'd arrived a week ago, and his classes were… fine. Uninspired, but harmless.
Yet, ever since the Grey Fog had entered Yuhon's life, he'd found himself assessing everyone with a new, paranoid scrutiny.
There was something about Mr. Yun's calmness that felt practiced, a little too perfect.
"And thus," Mr. Yun was saying, his voice a smooth, monotone hum, "the equal-field system, while initially successful, ultimately failed due to the corrupt practices of the local gentry. A classic example of good intentions being undermined by greed."
He smiled his bland smile. "Much like in our modern world, wouldn't you say?"
The bell for the afternoon gym period finally rang, a welcome relief.
As they filed out, Mr. Yun called out, "Ah, entire class? A quick word, if you don't mind. I need help moving some… historical artifacts to the storage room next to the gym. It will only take a moment."
A collective groan went up, but they followed him.
Yuhon's unease ticked up a notch. Historical artifacts? The school's history department was a single closet with a replica terracotta warrior and a dusty globe.
The storage room was indeed next to the gym, a cramped, windowless space smelling of old mats and disinfectant.
Mr. Yun held the door open with that same placid smile.
"Everyone inside, please. Just need to grab a few boxes."
As the last student, Yuhon, stepped across the threshold, Mr. Yun's smile didn't change, but his eyes, visible for a split second over the rim of his glasses, did. They were cold, calculating, and utterly focused.
The door clicked shut behind them.
"Alright, where are these boxes?" Leo asked, already sounding bored.
Mr. Yun didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, metallic orb.
"The lesson for today," he said, his voice losing its blandness, becoming sharp and clinical, "is on the efficacy of modern chemical subjugation."
Yuhon muttered, "What the hell does it..."
He dropped the orb. It hit the concrete floor with a hiss, and a pale, sweet-smelling gas began to spew forth, filling the small room instantly.
"Hey, what is this!" Jin shouted.
"Teacher, what is this gas"
"Teacher! help us please!"
"Teacher why are you doing this!" Leo asked angrily.
Panic erupted. Students coughed, their eyes watering. They stumbled toward the door, but it was locked solid.
"What is this?!" Mei yelled, covering her mouth with her shirt sleeve.
"A nap time lesson," Mr. Yun's voice came through a hidden speaker, calm and amused. "Don't fight it. The gas is odorless and fast-acting."
Yuhon took a deliberate breath. The sweet scent filled his lungs, and he felt a faint, distant urge to sleep, a sensation like a feather brushing against his mind.
It was immediately snuffed out by the roaring inferno of power within him. His metabolism, his control, his very biology—it was all too potent for such a crude tool. He was unaffected.
But he wasn't stupid. He saw his classmates slumping against the walls, their eyes fluttering shut.
Jin slid down next to him, mumbling something about a talking squirrel before going limp.
Mei was one of the last to fall, her analytical eyes wide with fury and betrayal before they finally closed.
Yuhon played his part. He let his knees buckle, sliding to the floor beside Jin, letting his head loll forward. He closed his eyes to slits, watching.
A section of the wall at the back of the storage room, disguised as a large shelving unit, slid open with a soft hum.
Mr. Yun stepped through, now wearing a sleek black tactical vest over his dress shirt.
He looked down at the unconscious students with the dispassionate air of a farmer inspecting livestock.
"Right on schedule," he muttered to himself. He keyed a comms unit on his wrist.
"Hanjin to base. Package acquired. All twenty-five units, plus the primary target. Ready for transport."
Hanjin. Hanjin Tian. The name from the Grey Fog ledger. An A-rank. And the 'primary target'? His eyes flicked to Mei.
Of course. They weren't just after anyone. They were after Sarah Xin's granddaughter.
Two more men in black tactical gear emerged from the hidden passage. "The tunnel is clear, sir. Direct route to the processing center."
"Good. Move them. Quickly and quietly. The gas won't last forever."
Yuhon let himself be dragged. He made his body a dead weight as the two lackeys hauled him through the hidden doorway and into a stark, concrete tunnel that sloped downward.
It was clean, well-lit, and clearly professional. This wasn't a makeshift operation like the Xenoh den. This was a permanent, sophisticated facility. And it was directly under their school.
The tunnel opened into a large, sterile-looking underground base. It was a hub of activity.
Monitors lined one wall, showing camera feeds from around the school and the town. Several doors led off to other rooms.
In the center of the main room were rows of containment cells—clear, glass-like boxes.
One by one, Yuhon's unconscious classmates were deposited into these cells.
The doors sealed with a soft hiss. He was dumped into one next to Mei and Jin. He kept his breathing slow and even, his eyes closed.
"Secure the primary target for immediate transfer," Hanjin ordered, pointing at Mei's cell.
"The others can wait here until the secondary buyers confirm. The Fox's interference has made the main syndicate nervous. They want their high-value assets moved immediately."
One of the technicians nodded, inputting commands into a console. Mei's cell began to glow with a soft blue light, additional locking mechanisms engaging.
"The Fox is a nuisance," the technician grumbled. "But he's just one man. The Grey Fog will handle him."
"The Grey Fog doesn't appreciate loose ends or attention," Hanjin said coldly.
"And this Fox has drawn far too much of both. Once this shipment is gone, this facility will be scrubbed. We'll establish a new pipeline."
Yuhon lay still, listening, mapping the room in his mind through his slitted eyelids. He counted eight personnel, plus Hanjin.
All armed, all confident. They thought they were safe, hidden beneath a school, their operation airtight.
They had no idea they'd just brought a natural disaster into their midst.
Hanjin walked over to the row of cells, his footsteps echoing on the concrete. He stopped in front of Mei's cell, then glanced at Yuhon's. He smirked.
"Sleep well, children. When you wake up, you'll be starting a whole new curriculum." He turned to leave.
"I'll be in my office finalizing the transport. Inform me the moment the primary target is ready for move-out."
The moment Hanjin disappeared through a reinforced door, Yuhon opened his eyes.
He was done playing.
He sat up slowly inside the clear cell. The two technicians at the console were focused on their screens. The guards were lax, leaning against walls, chatting quietly.
Yuhon placed his palm flat against the clear door of his cell. He didn't need fire or lightning for this. Not yet. This required a finer touch.
A delicate, intricate pattern of Silver Frost blossomed from his fingertips, spreading across the surface of the door in a silent, beautiful web.
It wasn't a blast of cold; it was a precise, deep-freeze that targeted the molecular structure of the locking mechanism.
There was a faint, almost inaudible ping.
He pushed.
The door, its lock now as brittle as glass, swung open silently.
The two technicians finally noticed. One looked up, did a double-take, and fumbled for his comms. "Uh, sir? We have a—!"
Yuhon was already moving. He was a blur of motion. A chop to the first technician's neck put him down before he could make a sound.
He grabbed the second by the wrist before he could draw his sidearm, applying pressure to a specific nerve cluster. The man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
The guards were shouting now, raising their weapons. Alarms began to blare.
Yuhon stood in the center of the underground base, surrounded by his imprisoned classmates.
He looked at the advancing guards, then at the camera feeds showing the oblivious school above them.
The Grinning Fox's work was never done.