Wu Haoyu's POV:
The factory's air was thick with smoke and blood, but it was Yanyan's star-dagger, dim but burning, that held my eyes, even as Wuhan's tower loomed north, its light pulsing like a heartbeat, Wu's crest glinting like a taunt. My cousin, Master Wu, a snake who'd slipped away again, his voice still crawling in my head—Wuhan's not done, Yanyan. My pipe was slick with gore, arm, thigh, and chest screaming, blood seeping fresh from the vault fight, but pain was nothing next to her. Yanyan stood, knife up, blood crusted on her cheek, arm and thigh oozing, her ribs heaving but eyes fierce—my fire, my heart, trusting me again, stronger now, despite Wu's poison tying me to him. I'd die proving I wasn't him, keeping her safe, burning his tower down if I had to.
