Black typhoon clouds rolled across the jagged granite peaks of Jade-Dragon Ridge as freezing sleet lashed the narrow mountain trail.
“Out of the way! My Goodness score dropped to seventy-nine point eight because I bragged about my abs at breakfast, and Grandma Chen’s canteen turnstile locked me out!”
A desperate, agonized roar shattered the early morning calm of the transport staging yard.
Qin Haoran sprinted across the snow-covered cobblestones with his heavy wool coat tied around his waist. His bare chest steamed in the sub-zero wind. Veins bulged along his neck, and his teeth were gritted in pure, existential panic.
Across his broad shoulders rested not one, but two colossal Star-Gold Relay Pylons.
Each pylon was a one-hundred-foot beam of solid astral iron and Star-Gold, weighing more than three tons. Yet Qin Haoran hauled both towers at a full sprint, his iron-spiked boots tearing up chunks of frozen mud with every stride.
Above his sweaty topknot, a flickering holographic number hovered in Lin Mo’s vision: [Qin Haoran | Goodness: 79.8/100 (WARNING: ELIGIBILITY SUSPENDED)].
Behind Qin Haoran, Patriarch Xue jogged alongside ten thousand Reformed Yellow-Vest Volunteers, his rugged face beaming with laughter.
