Author's POV:
The rebel courtyard pulsed with tension, its star-crested walls a fragile bastion under Wuhan's dawn, the tower's light casting a cold glow across the Old District. Master Wu's crest pulsed atop it, a beacon of betrayal, his voice echoing through drones: "Now, Haoyu. Bring my key." Huang Yanyan stood at the courtyard's edge, star-etched dagger gleaming, its scratched seal—Yue's mark—burning with her role as the Huang key to Vault 2, Tower Core, holding Island B's secrets: trade routes, weapons, power. Her knife flashed, blood crusted on her cheek, arm and thigh oozing, ribs aching, but her eyes were steel, Chicago grit merging with royal fire.
