Sofia arrived at the base with her subordinates, her posture as rigid and cold as the unforgiving steel of her blade. The echo of her boots against the polished floors of the base seemed to command the silence of the room.

There was no hesitation in her movements, no flicker of indecision as she swiftly completed the task at hand—the elimination of the dawn Mercenaries.

When the group trudged through the scorching heat of Death Valley, the call came in—urgent and dire. The Dawn Mercenaries had launched a surprise attack on their base. The information hit like a thunderclap, They wasted no time. Sofia led them out of the wasteland and back toward the capital. She didn't need to speak; her mere presence was command enough.

The return to the base was swift and efficient, as if the world itself bent to Sofia's will. Every minute wasted was a potential loss, and yet, Sofia's demeanor never wavered. She was calm—almost unnervingly so. It wasn't the calm of reassurance but the silence of a brewing storm, one that promised devastation. As the base came into view, the sight of the aftermath was grim. Bodies littered the ground, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood. But for Sofia, this was nothing more than another scene in the theater of war she had been navigating her entire life.

The Dawn Mercenaries had made their move, and now it was her turn.

Without waiting for orders, her team snapped into action. Tactical precision flowed like second nature among them, under Sofia's cold command. Yet it was her stillness that dominated the scene, as if the chaos around her was no more than the flicker of a candle in the wind. She didn't rush. She didn't shout. There was no need. Her icy composure was more terrifying than any battle cry.

She walked forward, her movements deliberate and unhurried, like a predator surveying the battlefield. The Dawn Mercenaries, unaware of the storm they had unleashed, made the fatal mistake of underestimating her. To them, she was just another opponent, perhaps a dangerous one, but nothing they couldn't handle. They would soon learn otherwise.

Sofia moved through the corridors like a shadow. Every step, every motion was calculated, her mind already ten steps ahead. One by one, she found the mercenaries, and they fell like dominoes. She was a silent force, her blade swift and merciless, cutting through the air with lethal precision. There was no hesitation in her movements, no faltering in her decisions. The Dawn Mercenaries, in their desperation, fought back with everything they had, but it didn't matter. Sofia was unstoppable.

The sounds of the battle—shouts, gunfire, and the clash of steel—faded into the background. To her, it was all a distant hum, like the ticking of a clock counting down to the inevitable. She showed no mercy, gave no quarter. Each mercenary she dispatched was just another obstacle removed, another body left in her wake. Their pleas fell on deaf ears. Sofia's indifference was absolute.

Her strikes were efficient, almost elegant in their brutality. There was no flourish, no wasted motion—just the cold, methodical precision of someone who had long since numbed herself to the violence. In the face of death, she remained unreadable, her face as impassive as the mask of a statue. The blood splattering her clothes might as well have been rain on a window; it didn't reach her.

By the time the last of the Dawn Mercenaries lay crumpled at her feet, the battle had been over for what felt like an eternity. The base was silent now, save for the distant crackle of fire and the muted groans of the wounded. Sofia stood in the midst of the carnage, her gaze sweeping across the scene with a detached coldness. The bodies of the fallen mercenaries were scattered like discarded refuse, but to Sofia, they were nothing more than debris. She felt no satisfaction, no anger, no pity—just an empty, hollow silence.

Her subordinates approached, awaiting her command. They had seen this side of her before, the cold, ruthless leader who dispatched her enemies without a second thought. They knew better than to ask questions or offer sympathy. To Sofia, this was just another day, another problem solved.

Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away from the blood-soaked battlefield, her back as straight and unyielding as ever. The weight of the violence didn't touch her. The change in her demeanor during the Death Valley mission—the flicker of emotion, the brief vulnerability—was gone, erased as though it had never existed. It had been an illusion, a fleeting moment of weakness that she had buried deep within herself.

Returning to the Tang Mansion, Sofia's demeanor remained unchanged. The sprawling corridors and opulent surroundings meant little to her—they were mere tools, stepping stones towards a much greater end. The aura she exuded was one of distance, as though emotions were a foreign concept, mere illusions of the weak.

The brief flicker of vulnerability she had displayed in the Death Valley seemed like an event from another lifetime, a mirage that had dissolved under the weight of her true self. Now, there was only cold calculation, and a mind focused on the next move.

In her room, Sofia sat at her desk, her fingers tapping lightly on the polished wood as she began planning her future empire. Her mind worked like a finely tuned machine, dissecting and analyzing every possibility with ruthless efficiency.

The antidote she had crafted to neutralize the poison had been a necessary detour, but now she was free to focus on what truly mattered—power. She knew the path to the top was not just paved with force, but with wealth. Economic dominance was the key to ruling the world from the shadows, and she would settle for nothing less.

Her vision was simple yet terrifying in its scope. She would build a technology empire—one that would weave its influence into the very fabric of society. The most advanced innovations, the most cutting-edge research—all under her control. Yet, her ambition was not merely financial; it was about control. Technology would give her access to every corner of the world, to the lives of those who believed they were safe, untouchable. No one would escape her reach.