Lin Mo stopped on the diamond-paved red carpet and turned his head toward the screech.
Pushing through the velvet stanchions was a woman in a garish peacock-feather gown that was visibly two sizes too tight. Her face was caked in thick white lead powder, her lips painted bright crimson, and a borrowed faux-diamond tiara wobbled precariously on her teased curls.
Above her head, her moral integrity score pulsed in oily, venomous crimson: 14/100.
It was Liu Yan.
Right behind her scuttled a greasy, stooped man in a stained velvet footman’s vest. He carried a heavy, polished golden spittoon in both hands, wiping his sweating forehead with a dirty yellow rag while Liu Yan clutched a crystal wine decanter like a bootlicking wine-maid.
His moral score was even lower, festering at an abysmal 9/100.
It was Zhao Kai.
Ever since they had fled Azure-Cloud Star in disgrace aboard a minor noble’s shuttle, the two of them had bounced between sleazy frontier casinos and low-tier noble households. When you possessed zero practical skills, zero cultivation talent, and negative moral character, the only job open to you in the core sectors was pouring wine for petty aristocrats and carrying their golden spittoons.
