The blood-red countdown timer in the sky ticked down with mechanical precision.
[00:60.]
[00:59.]
[00:58.]
General Xue Sha’s scarred, crimson face sneered down from the heavy clouds, his voice reverberating through the obsidian skyscrapers of Galactic Wall Street.
“Sixty seconds, Lin Mo!” Xue Sha’s roar sounded like tearing sheet metal. “Where is your arrogance now? Where is your pathetic charity? Surrender two hundred quadrillion Origin Dao Crystals to our vault, and return all five hundred galaxies to our slaver-deeds! If the clock hits zero, our hundred thousand cannons will turn you into subatomic dust!”
Across the five hundred outer galaxies, the terrifying broadcast was projected into every planetary sky.
In Galaxy #312, miners clutched their tools in silent horror, looking up at the red numbers ticking down. On Planet Weaver-Nine, eighty billion textile workers gathered in public squares, praying to the heavens for Chairman Lin’s safety.
