The early morning mist still hung thick over the damp granite gorge as Team A left the chaos behind. Seventy meters behind them, the mountain path remained severed by thousands of tons of fallen limestone, but ahead, the high-altitude valley opened into a serene, untouched expanse of alpine terrain. The air here was crisp and biting, smelling faintly of damp pine needles and fresh mountain air, completely devoid of the lingering white dust that had filled the canyon.
As they walked in a calm, steady line along the gravel riverbed, Yang Muchen fell back half a pace behind Chen Ying. He adjusted the heavy strap of his dark canvas supply pack with his right hand, his thumb casually brushing against the underside of his high collar. Beneath the heavy fabric seam, a small comms unit rested against his jaw.
His deep voice dropped into an imperceptible whisper, completely lost beneath the crunch of river gravel under their boots.
