Wu Haoyu's POV:
The drones' red lights blinked above us like vultures circling a corpse, their hum drilling into my skull as we trudged toward the village. My arm throbbed where that elite's blade had sliced me, blood soaking the bandage, but I gripped my pipe tighter, eyes locked on Yanyan ahead. She moved like a storm, knife in one hand, that damn dagger—the one with her star—in the other, its glint taunting me. Welcome home, Yanyan. The throne waits. Huang Zhao's voice from those drones burned in my head, each word a needle. He knew her, too well, and that dagger wasn't just a clue—it was a claim, tying her to him, to the shadow, to a past I couldn't touch.
