Sun Zi Mo didn't flinch at Yizhou's words. Just gave a small grunt, tapping the side of the note with the end of his pen. "Cold-blooded."
"Practical I'd say." Feng Yizhou replied, voice low. "We can't feed everyone. Can't protect everyone. The ones who stay in line, follow orders and carry their weight they'll make it. The rest…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
Sun Zi Mo's eyes flicked toward the window, where the horizon had darkened into a sickly bruise of dusk. "So we're just going to let them thin themselves out."
Yizhou's gaze didn't waver. "We set the bait. We leave the door cracked. And when the horde hits, we don't have to save the ones that move too slow."
A beat passed before Sun Zi Mo spoke again, voice a little quieter. "We're not telling them, right?"
