The blinking icon on the tablet screen pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and unyielding, marked in the shadow of the Han River's east bank. Lin stared at it for a long moment, the glow from the screen casting faint blue light across his face. Keller leaned over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing.

"Looks like a dockyard," Keller muttered. "Or maybe a service pier. You think this is legit?"

Lin's thumb hovered over the zoom function. "Could be. Could be a trap for us instead. But either way, it's where this ends."

Keller grunted. "You're really planning to set up against Jin there?"

"I'm not giving him the luxury of the hunt," Lin replied. "If he's coming, I decide where and when he gets his chance. Control the battlefield, control the fight."

They both knew the Han River area wasn't neutral ground. The east bank had more eyes than any other part of the city — gangs, smugglers, and corporate fixers all had some claim on it. A fight there meant witnesses, and witnesses meant the story would spread. If Lin won, Jin's aura of invincibility would fracture. If Lin lost… well, there wouldn't be much left to tell.

They moved quickly, heading south from the elevated highway toward an old section of the city where the neon lights faded into darkness. The roads narrowed, lined with squat apartment blocks and silent storefronts. A light drizzle began to fall, peppering the streets with silver ripples.

Lin kept his pace even, but his mind was already mapping the dockyard's layout from memory. He'd been there once, years ago, when a smuggling job required slipping a crate onto a cargo boat without customs interference. That night had gone smoothly. This one wouldn't.

By the time they reached the east bank, the drizzle had thickened into steady rain. The Han River's surface churned under the wind, the reflection of the city lights breaking into jagged fragments.

They approached the pier from the north side, avoiding the main road. The wooden planks of the old jetty groaned under their steps, and the air smelled of rust, diesel, and river mud.

Lin crouched near a stack of blue shipping containers, pulling a folded satchel from inside his coat. Keller recognized it instantly.

"Explosives?" Keller asked, eyebrows raised.

"Charges," Lin corrected, attaching a small magnetic clamp to the underside of the nearest container. "Not to blow the place up — just to make sure the path behind us can be cut off when needed."

Keller gave a low whistle. "You're really expecting company."

"I'm counting on it."

For the next two hours, they worked in silence. Lin placed the charges at choke points — narrow gaps between containers, the base of the pier's gangway, even beneath a section of the wooden walkway that creaked ominously. The rain helped; its hiss masked their movements and washed away their footprints.

When they were finished, Lin led Keller to an elevated crane platform overlooking the water. From here, they had a clear line of sight to the entire dockyard, and an escape ladder that dropped directly into the river if things went bad.

Keller sat down heavily on a steel beam, shaking his head. "We're really going to sit up here until he comes?"

"Not just sit," Lin said, pulling out a small comm unit. "We're going to send an invitation."

He typed quickly, the rain pattering on the device's casing. The message was short, direct, and unmistakably bait:

Jin. Han River. East dock. Tonight. You want me, bring yourself. No proxies.

Lin hit send to a number he hadn't used in three years — one Jin had given him back when they were uneasy allies. It was risky; the line could be monitored, but Lin wasn't interested in secrecy. This was about drawing Jin into a fight he couldn't avoid.

Keller watched him work, arms crossed. "You're assuming he'll come alone."

"No," Lin said. "I'm assuming he won't. That's why we set the field the way we did."

Midnight crept in slow and heavy. The rain eased, leaving the dockyard slick and glistening under the pale glow of security lamps. Somewhere far upriver, a ship's horn bellowed, echoing across the water.

At 12:43 a.m., Keller spotted movement.

"Three vehicles," he murmured, peering through the scope of a compact rifle. "SUVs, black. Parked just outside the perimeter. And… there he is."

Lin took the scope and looked for himself. Jin hadn't changed much — still tall, lean, and carrying himself like a man who believed he couldn't lose. But Lin saw it in the way his men moved around him — the tight formations, the constant scanning. They weren't overconfident. They were wary.

Jin walked toward the pier, his coat swaying with each step, flanked by six men. Two more remained at the SUVs, likely as backup.

Lin let them come halfway down the pier before making his move. He stepped into the open, the crane's shadows falling away from him, rainwater dripping from his coat's hem.

"Jin," Lin called out.

The older man smiled faintly, stopping just short of the first choke point Lin had prepared. "Lin. You could've kept running. Why stand here waiting to die?"

"I'm not here to die," Lin said, voice calm. "I'm here to end this."

Jin chuckled, but there was no humor in it. He gestured slightly, and two of his men moved forward. That was when Lin gave Keller the nod.

A sharp click echoed through the night, followed by the dull whump of a charge detonating. The wooden walkway behind Jin's men shattered, collapsing into the river. Their path back to the SUVs was gone.

Jin's expression hardened. "You planned this."

"Of course," Lin said. "The difference between you and me is that I never confuse revenge with strategy."

The first shot rang out before Jin could reply. Keller dropped one of the flankers cleanly, the man's rifle clattering to the wet wood. Chaos erupted — Jin's men fanning out, gunfire cracking, bullets sparking off steel containers.

Lin moved like water, slipping between cover, returning fire only when he had a clear shot. Two more of Jin's men went down, their bodies sliding toward the edge of the pier.

Jin himself stayed low, firing in short bursts, his eyes locked on Lin. The old grudge burned between them, years of betrayal and unfinished business narrowing the world to these few square meters of slick wood and steel.

The fight lasted less than three minutes. When the gunfire faded, only Jin and Lin were still standing. Keller had taken position to cut off any remaining threats.

"You think this ends with me?" Jin spat, blood mixing with the rain on his lips.

Lin stepped closer, gun in hand but lowered. "It ends when I decide it ends."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Jin alive but humiliated — the worst wound Lin could give him.