Dragon's Fang Port, the foremost outpost of the East Sea Fortress City.
To call it a port was a stretch; in reality, it was just a temporary stronghold forcibly cobbled together on a massive coastal reef cluster using quick-dry cement and alloy plates.
Waves crashed against the rusted breakwater, letting out a dull roar.
For the past month, this place had been a paradise for Gold Diggers.
The air always reeked of a mixture of cheap alcohol, the stench of the sea, and low-quality engine oil.
But today, a nauseating stench of fear had been added to the mix.
Old Zhang was an old hand who'd been getting by at the docks for twenty years. He'd lost an eye in the mines years ago and had it replaced with a second-hand prosthetic that would occasionally spark.
He clutched a large wrench, squatting behind a pile of cargo containers, his single eye fixed on a nearby berth.
A farce was unfolding there.
