Night.
The villa's lighting was stable.
Patrol routes followed their fixed rhythm.
The intercom system had no static.
Everything matched the usual state.
Guang was indoors.
He wasn't continuing to process documents.
He was just standing.
The brief pause at the doorway earlier was still in his memory.
It required no explanation.
There was no conclusion.
It was simply recorded.
Footsteps came from the corridor.
The frequency was slightly faster.
Not hurried, but not aligned with the usual rhythm.
The intercom lit up.
A voice, lowered:
"An abnormal signal has been detected on the perimeter. Confirm status in all sectors."
No response.
One second later.
Another voice connected:
"East-side monitoring temporarily lost. Restoring. Maintain current patrol rhythm."
A brief pause.
The tone shifted slightly:
"Correction. Signal still unstable. Reconnecting."
The channel went briefly silent.
No one spoke.
As if waiting.
A few seconds later.
The voice returned:
"West patrol has not reported on schedule. Confirm position. Do not leave current path."
No response.
The air did not change.
But the rhythm began to drift.
Guang did not move.
He stood in place.
The intercom sounded again:
"All personnel maintain current positions. Do not move without authorization. Repeat—do not move without authorization."
The moment the sentence ended—
A muffled sound came from the distance.
Not an explosion.
A suppressed impact.
Carried across distance.
Very faint.
But clear enough.
Guang's gaze paused for a moment.
He did not move toward the window.
He did not confirm the source.
The intercom did not speak again.
As if cut off.
A few seconds later.
The signal returned.
But not on the original channel.
The voice carried slight delay:
"Perimeter defense has engaged unidentified personnel. Interception in progress. Maintain current deployment."
The tone was flat.
No panic.
Like reporting a routine procedure.
The next sentence was cut off—
Signal interrupted.
The lights flickered once.
They did not go out.
Only a slight fluctuation in brightness.
Guang turned.
Someone stood outside the door.
The old steward.
He did not knock.
He did not explain.
He only said:
"Young master, please come with me."
Guang looked at him:
"What happened?"
The old steward did not pause:
"There's an issue on the perimeter. Internal routes need adjustment. This is not the time for explanations."
He turned after speaking.
Walking deeper into the corridor.
His pace was steady.
Not accelerated.
Guang followed.
Neither spoke again.
They passed the first corridor.
Lighting stable.
No anomaly.
Second turn.
The lights ahead went out briefly.
Then returned.
The old steward did not stop.
But changed direction.
Not toward the main hall.
Instead, into a side passage.
This path was rarely used.
The floor was clean.
But showed no signs of use.
Guang did not ask.
He had already confirmed—
The original route could no longer be used.
They continued forward.
The sound became clearer.
Not a single sound.
But continuous.
Suppressed gunfire.
Evenly spaced.
No chaotic shooting.
Like execution by rhythm.
Guang's pace did not change.
But he heard it.
Each shot came from a fixed direction.
No spread.
Meaning the engagement zone was controlled.
It had not expanded to the entire villa.
It was localized suppression.
The distant gunfire began to change.
Intervals broke.
Brief counterfire appeared.
Unstable rhythm.
It lasted only a short time.
Quickly suppressed again.
Returning to the original even frequency.
As if resistance had been eliminated.
They continued forward.
The air became slightly colder.
Not a large temperature change.
But perceptible.
Indicating proximity to the mountain interior.
The old steward stopped before a wall.
No visible difference from the surroundings.
He reached out.
Pressed a hidden switch.
The structure shifted slightly.
The wall opened.
Revealing a downward passage.
No lighting.
But the outline was visible.
The slope was gentle.
The structure simple.
Function clear.
The old steward turned back:
"Please go down."
Guang did not move:
"Where is Father?"
The old steward met his gaze.
Did not avoid it:
"Master already knew this would happen."
A brief pause.
"He chose to remain above."
Guang's gaze did not change:
"He did not arrange evacuation."
The old steward nodded:
"Master made his decision long ago. He will face this conflict directly."
The gunfire drew closer.
No longer just echoes.
Short bursts of counterfire appeared.
Very brief.
Suppressed again.
Guang stood for a moment.
He did not continue questioning.
Not because there were no questions.
But because the answer was complete.
If there had been an evacuation plan—
He would not be the only one leaving.
Shun stood beside him.
Silent.
Watching the passage.
Not moving.
The old steward spoke steadily:
"Young master, please take Miss down. I will handle what remains above."
Guang looked at him:
"There is no meaning in you staying."
The old steward did not deny it:
"My duty is not survival. It is to fulfill what was entrusted."
A brief pause.
"Please do not waste time."
Gunfire sounded again.
Closer this time.
No longer even.
As if entering internal areas.
Footsteps came from the end of the corridor.
Not hurried.
But approaching.
Stable rhythm.
No panic.
Meaning—no resistance.
The old steward raised his hand.
Gesturing to the passage:
"Please leave now."
Guang glanced once toward the corridor.
Did not hesitate further.
He turned.
Taking Shun into the passage.
Footsteps remained behind them.
Not accelerating.
The old steward stood at the entrance.
Did not follow.
He reached out.
Preparing to close the hidden door.
Guang paused for a moment.
Did not turn back.
He asked only one question:
"Where is the exit?"
The old steward answered:
"Follow the passage all the way down. The final section leads outside the mountain. It does not pass any main routes, and leaves no record."
Guang nodded.
Did not ask more.
The old steward looked at him:
"Young master—do not look back after you leave."
Guang gave no response.
The hidden door began to close.
The structure sealed.
Sound was cut off.
In the final moment—
The old steward stood in place.
Did not move.
The door fully closed.
Silence in the passage.
Only footsteps remained.
Guang led Shun downward.
Without stopping.
Without speaking.
Midway, the temperature dropped further.
The walls were unrefined.
Bare structure.
Footsteps were absorbed.
No echo.
The design was not for concealment.
But for isolation.
Sound could not travel.
Airflow remained stable.
No external interference.
They continued downward.
Distance stretched.
Time lost reference.
No markers.
No branches.
A single path.
Leading only to the exit.
Everything above was completely cut off.
No gunfire.
No footsteps.
No signal.
As if already detached.
But Guang knew—
It was still continuing above.
He did not stop.
Until the end appeared.
The exit ahead.
A simple door.
Unlocked.
He pushed it open.
Cold air entered.
Night fully covered everything.
No lights.
No markers.
The mountain extended in the distance.
Visibility limited.
The villa could not be seen.
As if cut off on the other side.
Guang paused for a moment.
He did not turn back.
Did not confirm direction.
He just stood.
Shun stood beside him.
Silent.
She did not ask.
Did not look back.
No sound in the distance.
No pursuit.
No movement.
Everything was quiet.
As if nothing had happened.
But he knew—
That segment had ended.
Not the battle.
But the structure.
Cut off.
No return.
No path.
No reason.
He stood for a moment.
Then turned.
Walking into the darkness.
Without stopping.