A week later, Persia, Tehran XX New International Airport.
The airport lobby was bustling with people, the air filled with a mixture of languages, the scent of spices, sweat, and disinfectant.
Travelers, businessmen, diplomats from around the world, and various locals moved ceaselessly, while outside the massive glass windows, the sun slightly distorted the asphalt on the tarmac with its heat.
Jiang Feng carried a massive, weathered tactical backpack, wore a semi-new, non-branded outdoor jacket, tactical pants, and dust-covered high-top combat boots, and walked out of the international arrivals channel.
He wore sunglasses that covered half of his face, a few days' worth of stubble on his chin, a solid build, and a steady gait. He seemed to casually observe the surroundings, but his eyes behind the sunglasses swept over every corner of the lobby, every camera position, and every possible surveillance point like a radar.
