The rear service corridor of VIP Box One was plunged into shrill, flashing red emergency lights.
Young Sovereign Jinye jammed his thumb against the private elevator call-button, his hands slick with sweat.
“Open! Open, you cursed box!” Jinye shrieked, kicking the brass door with his dragon-skin boot.
Beside him, Xue Sha desperately tried to rip off his blood-plunder cloak to disguise his identity, while Mo Yun clutched five spatial rings against his chest like a cornered raccoon.
“We need to reach the harbor docks!” Mo Yun panted, his eyes darting frantically. “My private war-skiff is moored at Slip Twelve! If we warp out before the clearinghouse seals the airspace, our fathers can petition the Supreme Board—”
CLANG—!
A heavy golden talisman slammed against the elevator doors from the ceiling above.
The brass doors locked tight with a metallic screech, covered in glowing pink judicial chains.
