The academy grounds were still, the ambient hum of distant voices and footsteps blending into the soft chirping of crickets as night fell. Two figures could be seen slipping into the shadows, navigating the labyrinth of corridors with practiced precision. William glanced at the older man beside him, his brow furrowing. The young boy, dressed in a blue and black uniform that contrasted sharply with his dark hair, was growing more curious by the second.
"General Zhao," William whispered, his voice barely audible as they rounded a corner, "why are we sneaking around like this? You're the general, right? Isn't your rank the highest here? We shouldn't be creeping like criminals."
General Zhao, a stoic figure cloaked in a black military uniform and wearing a nose mask, didn't slow his pace. His face, mostly hidden behind the mask, was unreadable, but William caught the subtle amusement in his eyes as he flicked open his traditional Chinese fan, waving it lazily.
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