The five-hundred-meter hull of the Taichu Golden Sky-Cruiser roared through the clouds like an airborne fortress of solid gold.
Lin Mo stood on the forward bridge deck, his hands resting on the cool bronze railing. The wind whipped past at supersonic speed, but the cruiser’s defensive barrier kept the deck as calm as a garden pavilion. Beside him, Master Bram Ironheart gripped his heavy runic hammer, his thick braided dwarf beard bristling with fury.
Chu Lingxiao stood on Lin Mo’s right, her slender fingers resting lightly on the pommel of her Taichu Benevolence Sword. Behind them, Chief Legal Counsel Shen Qiaoqiao was rapidly scrolling through glowing floating projections of Nine-Prefecture debt treaties and labor arbitration precedents.
“Ten minutes to Mount Raging-Flame, Chairman,” General Meng Tie reported from the helm array, his voice deep and steady. “Their mountain defense ward is active, crackling with fiery red runes across the crags.”
“Cut right through their outer air corridor,” Lin Mo ordered calmly. “We are not sneaking in like thieves in the night. We are conducting a legal repossession.”
Master Bram wiped a tear of pure rage from his eye with a calloused thumb.
“Chairman, you don’t know the heart of Master Ou Yezi,” Bram said, his gravelly voice trembling with emotion. “Ten years ago, when the southern Yellow-Dragon River flooded three hundred mortal farming villages, the sect masters only laughed, saying mortal ants drowned every spring.”
