Light tore through the darkness.
A gleam slowly rose in the east, and the sun bounded up from the horizon.
Nangang had weathered a tumultuous night of storm and rain, and as the head of Nangang's police, Chen Jianjun hadn't slept a wink, dealing with the matters at hand all night long, especially since most of the officers left at the station last night had been assassinated by ninjas from the Island Nation.
In a rather secluded villa in Nangang.
A middle-aged man around forty stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa, holding a wineglass in his right hand. The glass contained a crimson liquid that didn't resemble red wine, but rather looked like human blood.
