The air at the Southern Port was damp and full of tension. Night had fallen completely, and most workers had either left or retreated into their barracks. The sound of the waves crashing against the steel hulls of massive cargo ships echoed across the empty dockyard like whispers from a forgotten war.
Sanda stepped off the boat unnoticed, blending with the shadows. His clothes were those of a common merchant—slightly torn linen pants, sandals covered in dust, and a dark hoodie pulled over his head. He had nothing on him that could draw attention. Even the small blade tucked into his waistband was made of a dull metal that would pass unnoticed during a random check.
He looked around briefly. The port hadn't changed much over the years. Same layout. Same old cranes towering over the yard like ancient mechanical monsters. But something was different tonight.
He could feel it.
The smell of deceit was strong—hidden behind shipping manifests and fake security protocols. Someone had turned this place into a channel for something far darker than illegal goods.
He walked calmly past the main loading area and toward the inspection zone. A few guards were visible up ahead, lazily chatting and half asleep. He diverted his path to the left, into a narrow alley between stacked containers. He moved quickly, silently, knowing exactly where to go.
Years ago, this port had been one of his first operations. Not as Sanda, but as Laga—the unknown mentor behind several regional trading networks. He'd designed secret compartments and escape routes in case anything went wrong. Those pathways still existed. And he was going to use them.
He stopped at Container C9—red, rusted, with faded white numbers. He tapped it twice on the corner. Hollow. Then tapped the base. Still hollow. He bent down and felt underneath until his fingers caught a latch. He pulled.
A small metal panel opened, revealing a tunnel. He slipped inside and crawled through, emerging fifteen meters away in an underground storage room long since abandoned.
Here, he turned on a dim lantern.
Shelves lined the room, filled with outdated paperwork, old labels, faded maps. He walked to the far end and brushed away dust from a steel locker. Inside, wrapped in oil cloth, were old logs he had once hidden—records of every vessel that came through this port between 2007 and 2012.
He flipped through the pages quickly. One ship stood out.
The Obsidian Star.
Sailed under Opex Logistics.
Disguised route.
Unregistered cargo.
He remembered that name. It was Lucas's pet project—an off-the-books vessel meant to "test new routes." But Sanda had always suspected it was being used for something else. Now, ten years later, the same ship had returned to these waters under a new name.
He closed the logbook and tucked it under his arm.
Suddenly, a soft sound broke the silence.
Footsteps. Someone was approaching.
Sanda moved instantly, extinguishing the lantern and ducking into the shadows behind a stack of crates. The footsteps grew louder, more deliberate.
Then the door opened slowly, and a beam of torchlight swept across the room.
A man entered, tall, lean, wearing a long coat. His face was partially covered, but his movement was smooth—trained. Not just any dockworker. A professional.
The man paused near the lockers and opened one. Then another. Then stopped at the empty one Sanda had just checked.
He clicked his tongue.
"Gone," he muttered. "Someone's already been here."
Sanda stepped out silently behind him and pressed the tip of his dull blade to the man's neck.
"Don't turn," he said quietly.
The man froze.
"Who sent you?" Sanda asked.
Silence.
"I can either break your arm or give you ten seconds. Choose."
"…the Black Firm," the man said reluctantly. "We were hired to intercept any investigation into the port. Especially logs from the early years."
"Why?"
"They're tied to a project. One that started years ago. Something buried."
Sanda's eyes narrowed. "Project name?"
"Red Vein."
Sanda inhaled sharply. He hadn't heard that name in a decade. Red Vein had once been a top-secret development—rumored to involve biological experiments, cybernetic tech, and psychic enhancements. It had disappeared after a global crackdown.
"You have proof?" he asked.
The man nodded slowly. "Warehouse 17. Third compartment under the floorboards. Files. Blueprints. Names."
Sanda knocked him out with a gentle tap to the neck, laid him on the floor, and left.
He had a new destination now.
Warehouse 17.
Outside, the rain had started. Light droplets at first, then a steady shower. Sanda made his way carefully, staying under the shadows of containers, avoiding light beams from patrolling guards. When he reached Warehouse 17, the entrance was locked. But he knew the back panel had always had a weakness near the hinge. A quick shove, and he was inside.
He moved quickly to the third compartment and pulled up the wooden boards.
There it was.
A metal case.
He opened it.
Inside were files stamped with red ink. Old government tags. Scientific reports. Names of researchers. Shipment records. And at the bottom—a photo.
Of a child.
He recognized the boy immediately.
Leo.
His own disciple.
But Leo's name wasn't written as a CEO or a student.
It was listed as a subject.
Subject R.V.-017.
Sanda's hands tightened.
They had used him.
Before he found Leo in the ruins of the border town, before he trained him into the mind that now led Dark Valley Consortium, Leo had been part of an experiment. And Sanda had never known.
He closed the file, his heart burning. This wasn't just business anymore. This was personal.
Suddenly, a voice behind him broke the silence.
"Didn't expect you to find this so fast."
Sanda turned slowly.
Lucas.
Clean-shaven, dressed in an expensive suit, standing with a smug expression.
"I always wondered what happened to you," Lucas said. "Everyone thought you disappeared. But I knew. Somewhere out there, the ghost of the master still moved."
Sanda said nothing.
Lucas stepped forward. "You always liked being in the dark. Watching people. Controlling from the shadows. But you made one mistake."
"Which is?"
"You let your disciples become too powerful. And now, I don't need you anymore."
Sanda raised an eyebrow. "You never did. That was the problem."
Lucas's face darkened.
A sudden movement.
Lucas reached for his jacket.
Sanda moved first.
In one blink, he closed the distance and grabbed Lucas's arm. Twisted. Disarmed. Slammed him against the wall. It happened so fast Lucas didn't even have time to breathe.
Sanda's voice was cold.
"If you hurt Leo… if you hurt anyone tied to Red Vein again… I won't just end this port. I'll end your name."
Lucas coughed. "It's too late… Red Vein is not a person. It's a virus. It's already in the system. And soon, your disciples will be infected. Their companies, their minds…"
Sanda's eyes burned.
"Then I'll cleanse the system," he whispered.
Lucas smiled faintly.
"We'll see, Laga."
Sanda froze.
Lucas smirked.
"You think I didn't know? I may not have seen the whole truth. But I suspected. The way you move. The way your students speak of you, without even knowing your full face."
Sanda stared for a long moment.
Then he let go.
Lucas collapsed.
Sanda stepped back into the rain.
Everything had changed.
Red Vein was back.
And now, even his hidden identity was at risk.