Author's POV:
The rebel holdout stood as a fragile fortress, its iron gate trembling under the dawn's harsh light, star-crested banners fluttering defiantly against the crestless tank's looming shadow. Master Wu perched atop it, his smirk a blade, his elite blade gleaming in one hand, a tablet in the other flashing coordinates: Bunker 7, Old District, Wuhan. The vault—Island B's heart, its trade routes, weapons, and power—called, with Huang Yanyan as its key, her star-etched dagger glinting in her grip, blood crusted on her cheek.
Wu Haoyu stood beside her, pipe slick with gore, wounds oozing from arm, thigh, and chest, his eyes locked on Wu—cousin, betrayer, snake—love for Yanyan fiercer than his pain. Jian Huang flanked them, star-dagger red, scar tight, his tie to Yue and Meilin a weight he bore silently. Huang Jiang leaned on his pipe, chest seeping, Meilin's betrayal raw, while Wu Qiang's machete dripped, shoulder bleeding, grin feral.
