For five thousand years, the fifteen hollowed-out metallic asteroids of the Crimson Belt had been known across the Silk Road as the Dens of Despair.
They were jagged, tomb-like fortresses where pirate raiders dragged hijacked cargo freighters.
Inside those dark, airless tunnels, stolen goods were stripped, defenseless crews were locked into slave cages, and predatory smugglers traded illegal contraband under dim, flickering emergency lamps.
Merchant captains spoke of these fifteen asteroids in hushed, terrified whispers. To lose an engine within fifty light-years of a pirate lair meant certain ruin.
Today, however, the dark tunnels echoed with the thunderous clatter of divine construction.
Lin Mo stood on the central catwalk of Asteroid Lair #15, the largest of the fifteen strongholds.
Beside him stood Master Lu Jian, Old Granite, and Admiral Black-Beard Kui.
Old Granite, the one-armed Rock-Clan foreman whom Lin Mo had rescued back on Planet #44, tapped his polished jade-mechanoid prosthetic arm against the iron cave wall. His gravelly voice rumbled with deep professional satisfaction:
