Author's POV:
The night hung heavy over the desolate road, the air thick with the tang of blood and burnt rubber. The family's truck lay crippled, its tires shredded by the ambushers' parting shots, a hulking relic stranded under a moonless sky. Bullet holes pocked its sides, glinting faintly in the glow of a single salvaged lantern that Huang Jiang held aloft, his weathered face grim as he surveyed the wreckage. Wu Haoyu stood guard, his pipe slick with blood, his dark eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the elite's men returning. Huang Yanyan crouched beside the truck, her knife in hand, blood crusting her cheek from a graze, her expression a storm of defiance and doubt. Wu Qiang leaned against a crate, machete dangling, his shoulder seeping red, while Huang Yue knelt by Yang Wei's stretcher, her hands trembling as she checked his pulse. The family was battered, bruised, and dangerously exposed, yet their resolve burned like a ember in the dark.
