Golden light gathered in Lin Mo’s open palm.
It did not flare with burning heat or blind the eyes like a wild supernova.
Instead, the light felt gentle and steady, like early dawn breaking over a ripe harvest field.
Yet, within that quiet glow rested the collective gratitude of four hundred and ninety-three billion living souls.
Every hot bowl of noodles Grandma Chen had scooped, every repaired roof Master Lu Jian had hammered, and every canceled medical debt whispered through that light.
Ancestor Tian Li shrank back against the frozen dark-matter surface of Bead Number Seven.
His ancient teeth chattered like loose stones in a dry bucket.
“Lin Mo!” Tian Li croaked, clawing desperately at the golden legal seal that pinned his prized weapon. “You cannot do this! This abacus is forged from fifty thousand years of galactic debt covenants! If you break it, the cosmic karma economy will collapse into ruin!”
