The golden membrane of Gate #27 parted without a whisper of resistance.
One second, Lin Mo stood on the damp, rain-soaked concrete of Grain-Star #12. The next second, the humid smell of wet earth vanished, replaced by the scent of night-blooming white orchids and spun mulberry fiber.
A blast of cold air hit his cheeks. He and Tie Niu emerged into a cavernous hall constructed from polished moon-marble and pale silver cedar.
Above them, crystalline skylights opened to a purple night sky where three silver moons cast luminous ribbons across the floor.
This was the Grand Weaving Sanctum of Silk-Star #27.
Under normal circumstances, hundreds of rhythmic wooden shuttles would clack in harmony. But today, the sacred sanctum sounded like a slaughterhouse.
“Smash the secondary warp-beams!” a harsh voice barked. “Shatter the jade spindles! The Blood-Tax Star Chamber does not tolerate defaulting deadbeats!”
Thirty heavily armed repo-enforcers in black spiked armor were ransacking the hall. They overturned cedar storage bins, scattering bolts of glowing starlight fabric across the floor and stomping on them with muddy combat boots.
