Cold wind cut through the empty streets like a sharp blade. Yuan quickened his pace, muttering to himself under his breath:
"Wait a second… What am I doing? Stupid Yuan… I'm playing cat and mouse with the man I'm supposed to kill… I'm getting dumber by the second in this cold."
He slipped slightly and stumbled, falling to the ground with an involuntary sigh. Still muttering, he gritted his teeth in frustration, shaking off the snow.
Nearby, Sylas's luxurious car slowed down. Yuan froze and stared. Sylas stepped out, his signature haughty glare sweeping over the surroundings. Yuan rolled his eyes slightly; the cold made speaking difficult.
Sylas approached him, his voice sharp, teasing, and filled with arrogance:
"Hmm… what's the matter? Why did you stop?"
Yuan raised his brows, shivering from the cold, and silently shook his head. Sylas studied him for a moment, then smirked:
"If you're cold, you can get in the car and warm up."
Yuan pretended not to hear and kept walking. But Sylas suddenly grabbed his arm. His grip was strong. Yuan reflexively pulled his hand back, but Sylas's voice rang out again, dripping with playful menace:
"If you keep walking, you'll probably freeze. You're quite far from the hotel now, do you realize that?"
Yuan exhaled through his nose, thinking to himself:
"I'm ruining this mission… but he's right. I could actually freeze out here."
Sylas grinned and walked toward the car, opening the door. They both got in, and Sylas immediately turned on the seat heater. Yuan felt a slight warmth, though he remained expressionless.
Sylas arched an eyebrow, still smirking:
"You still haven't told me your name."
At that moment, Sylas's phone rang. It was security.
"Mr. Sylas, your father is still in the hospital. We wanted to inform you."
Sylas slammed the phone shut and rested his head against the steering wheel, letting out a deep sigh. His morale was completely drained. He tossed the phone to the back seat, showing no reaction. Yuan silently observed him.
Finally, Sylas spoke in a low, almost bitter voice
"I argued with my father… After I left, he had a heart attack. Now he's in the hospital."
Yuan felt a flicker of relief deep down, but he didn't show it. Sylas continued:
"There's immense pressure on me… I don't know what to do."
Yuan stared at him, expressionless, and asked in a cold tone:
"If your father had a heart attack, why are you still here? Shouldn't you be at the hospital?"
Sylas snapped, his voice laced with arrogance:
"That's none of your business!"
Yuan tilted his head slightly:
"If it's none of your business, then why are you talking to me? Then go, talk to a wall might be more useful to you."
Sylas leaned his head back against the wheel, taking a deep breath.
"You don't know anything… If you did, you wouldn't be speaking to me like this."
Yuan's voice remained icy:
"Even if you tell me, I can understand."
Sylas glanced at him briefly and spoke again:
"The entire country you see is governed by my lineage. After my father… I will be the one to lead it."
Yuan, already aware of all this, feigned surprise professionally:
"Really?"
Sylas, with a seemingly innocent tone, asked:
"Does that seem like a good thing to you?"
Yuan remained silent, while Sylas's gaze held a pure curiosity. The atmosphere between them was thick with tension both the weight of authority and the undercurrent of conflict mixed with the cold, empty streets outside. The hum of the car engine blended with the winter silence, amplifying the complex power struggle and unspoken intensity between them