Yunfeng stood up abruptly, the rush of power coursing through his limbs like lightning. He strode to the window and pushed the curtain aside. The sky outside was painted in deep gold and amber, the sun hanging low, casting long, stretched shadows across the desolate ground. That light—the final golden hour—meant one thing.
It was time.
His jaw clenched as the sunlight streaked across his face, highlighting the determined glint in his eyes.
He reached under the bed and pulled out the cloth sack he had hidden earlier—the survelance bugs. He didn't even hesitate. With a sharp inhale, Yunfeng summoned the heat to his fingertips, small blue sparks dancing over his palm. He dropped the sack to the ground and pressed his hand to it.
The cloth burst into flames.
The bugs inside clicked and writhed as they were reduced to smoking ash.
