C212 Boss Ma's Failure

The winter night was pitch-black, particularly just after the Spring Festival, when the moon hung in the sky like a slender crescent, deepening the darkness. Yet, in this frigid, ink-black night, numerous silhouettes hurried along even darker streets, unimpeded by the lack of light despite carrying no lanterns or torches. Their pace was swift, betraying no hindrance from the enveloping blackness