The golden light from the stage screen reflected off Xiao Huo’s wide eyes.
Beyond the security perimeter, Young Master Ao Lie stood clutching the iron gate, his face beet red. He had not left. He was clinging to the bars like a caged ape, glaring with pure jealousy.
“Chairman Lin, you are being deceived!” Ao Lie roared, shaking the brass fence with both hands. “That boy is a worthless cripple! His meridians are scorched, and his right leg is dead bone! Healing a crippled ash-boy costs more crystals than his entire miserable life is worth!”
Lin Mo did not even turn his head. He looked down at his wrist-terminal, where Xiao Huo’s profile shone with pristine emerald clarity: [Goodness Score: 96/100].
“In the eyes of Galactic Wall Street, a good heart has no market value,” Lin Mo thought to himself. “In my eyes, a ninety-six Goodness score is a three-hundred-trillion-crystal investment with a guaranteed hundred-times return. These loan sharks truly do not understand basic math.”
Lin Mo raised his head and addressed Dr. Gu Qinghe, who stood waiting near the medical shuttle on the terrace.
“Dr. Gu, prepare the primary alchemical chamber,” Lin Mo said. “We have our first VIP patient of the morning.”
