The lift groaned as it reached its destination, metal grinding against metal with the sound of an old beast dying. The floor beneath them shuddered with each passing second, as if the very earth was preparing to collapse in on itself. Emergency lights bathed the corridor in a pulsating red hue, casting long shadows that danced erratically along the walls.
With a loud hiss, the lift doors slid open.
Xing Yu didn't hesitate. He reached down, seized Wang Bushen by the collar again, and dragged him out like a sack of refuse. The man yelped as his shattered legs scraped across the cold steel floor, leaving a dark smear of blood in their wake.
The corridor outside opened into a wide underground chamber—vast, sterile, and lined with complex equipment, some of it still humming softly despite the tremors shaking the facility. Stasis tanks had shattered; broken vials lay in puddles of fluorescent liquid, their contents hissing on contact with air.
But Xing didn't care for any of it.
