General Xue Sha plummeted through the clouds like an apocalyptic meteor.
Dark-red flames trailed from his spiked armor as he descended through the upper atmosphere. In his massive hands, the Blood-Halberd glowed with terrifying violet lightning. Forged from the femurs of twelve ancient dragons and quenched in the blood of ten thousand conquered planets, the weapon carried enough kinetic force to shatter a small moon into rubble.
For thirty thousand years, Xue Sha had served as the chief executioner of Vault #6.
He had extinguished ancient dynasties with a single swing. He had crushed peasant uprisings with his boots. In his mind, mortal beings were nothing more than insects born to be crushed under the heels of the Usury Syndicate.
“Die, peasant!” Xue Sha bellowed, his face twisted in bloodthirsty madness. “Let your broken body prove that Lin Mo’s laws are nothing but empty talk! Let the galaxy see what happens to ants who forget their place!”
Down on the white tiles of the hospital dock, Old Uncle Zhang was completely unbothered.
He was seventy years old, with callused hands and a cheerful, wrinkled face. Back in Jiangcheng, he had swept the streets outside the old Taichu clinic for thirty years. When Lin Mo moved the headquarters to the stars, Uncle Zhang had refused to stay behind.
