The intersection between Sector Seven and Sector Nine had never seen such a violent dispute.
Usually, when fifty high-ranking Dao-Lords gathered at a cosmic crossroads, blood flowed into the void and entire planets shattered. Today, the weapons were missing.
Instead, fifty ferocious patriarchs wearing bright pink aprons were rolling up their sleeves, shoving each other with their elbows, and screaming at the top of their lungs over a small wicker shopping basket.
“Get your filthy claw off that handle, Old Ghost Yin!” Blood-Blade Patriarch roared, his face turning as crimson as his apron. “I spotted her first! I was thirty yards away when she stepped off the shuttle! Helping her across the crosswalk will give me zero point five Goodness Points! I need those points for Taichu’s dental plan!”
“Your dental plan?” Old Ghost Yin hissed back, his sunken grey cheeks twitching with rage. “You already have eighteen points, you gluttonous pig! I only have seven points! If I do not reach ten points by noon, Coach Qin will make me scrub the space-turtle tanks with a toothbrush!”
Between them stood an elderly blind mortal woman, wearing a patched grey coat and cloth shoes.
She held a white cane in one hand and the wicker basket in the other. Her clouded grey eyes blinked in confusion as two ten-thousand-year-old killers wrestled over her celery stalks.
