"No, Captain." Lin Yu'an shook his head, pointing to the almost pitch-black darkness and increasingly thick fog around them, his tone grave, "We've lost our greatest advantage—visibility. Tracking them has lost its meaning."
"In this environment, let alone tracking, we can't even see the path beneath our feet. If we rashly pursue them now, it's not capture, it's suicide."
Lin Yu'an glanced at Yang Zhen's watch, the hour hand had just pointed to 5:45 in the afternoon.
"Captain, the cloudy sky combined with dense fog has made it dark at least an hour and a half earlier than we expected. The temperature is also dropping rapidly. If we don't find shelter and make a fire, all of us are at risk of hypothermia."
Yang Zhen was silent; he could feel the icy fog piercing through his combat uniform like countless needles. He knew every word Lin Yu'an said was true.
