The shrill blare of the emergency alert cuts through the sudden silence, immediately followed by pandemonium. A sea of panicked faces surges around you, a terrifying torrent of fear and desperation.

You're frozen, overwhelmed by the sheer terror of the situation, the raw vulnerability of it all. You've never witnessed anything like this.

A young woman, her face pale and streaked with tears, stumbles into you, clinging desperately. "Please," she whispers, her voice choked with fear, "help me." Her wide, pleading eyes reflect your own burgeoning anxiety.

You reach out to comfort her, but before you can speak—

A gunshot rips through the air, sharp and brutal. The young woman crumples to the ground, a crimson stain spreading across her clothes.

A gasp escapes your lips, lost in the surrounding chaos. Your eyes dart around, searching for the source of the shot, your heart pounding frantically.

Slowly, a figure emerges from the crowd. He moves with a chilling, deliberate pace, his presence radiating menace.

Clad in dark clothing, his uniform speaks of military precision and ruthless efficiency. It's Lu Feng.

The name itself is a whisper of dread, a prelude to the storm. Lu Feng – the man known for his merciless efficiency, his coldblooded executions. He inspires fear not through brute force, but through calculated ruthlessness.

The sight of him freezes your blood.

His gaze finds you, sharp and unwavering, stripping away any illusion of safety. The sight of the young woman, moments ago clinging to you in desperation, has ignited a furious, possessive rage within him.

He hates the idea of another woman's touch near you. He wants you, and only you.

His presence is a suffocating blanket of desire and simmering fury.