The Taichu Golden Sky-Cruiser surged through the freezing Scandinavian skies.
Twin golden anti-gravity rings hummed beneath its armored belly, cutting through curtains of blinding hail and mountain blizzards. Master Lu Jian stood firmly at the bronze helm, guiding the vessel along the jagged granite ridge of Frost-Peak Mountain.
Down in the observation salon, Arthur strapped on a newly fitted golden breastplate from the armory.
His two solar flame wings folded neatly against his back, radiating a gentle warmth that kept the cold air away.
“Frost-Peak Mountain has been the home of my friend Master Bram for forty years,” Arthur said to Lin Mo. He pointed out the window at a volcanic plume in the distance. “His clan descends from ancient dwarven earth-shapers. They built the Volcanic Star-Forge directly above an active geothermal magma vein.”
“And Iron-Baron Magnus wants to turn it into an illegal weapons factory,” Lin Mo said, taking a sip of warm jasmine tea.
“Magnus is ruthless,” Arthur said, his jaw tightening with grim memory. “He supplies cursed weapons to dark syndicates across the continent. He has besieged Bram’s clan for six months, choking off food and coal.”
Lin Mo set his porcelain teacup onto the wooden table.
