The black sky shrieked with the sound of billions of iron locust wings.
From the obsidian vault gates poured a torrential storm of razor-winged insects, coated in corrosive plague-venom.
Sixth Director Yao-Ba laughed like a crazed vulture, her rotting vine sleeves shaking as she stirred her iron mortar.
“Drown in my Nine-Rot Plague, mortal worms!” Director Yao-Ba shrieked, her venomous voice echoing across forty thousand worlds. “For ten thousand epochs, we synthesized every epidemic that swept the lower realms! Then we sold the antidote for ten thousand spirit crystals a pill! If peasants don’t mortgage their souls, they don’t get medicine!”
She threw another handful of black powder into the bubbling cauldron, causing the purple fumes to rise higher.
“We patented the ginger root! We patented the lotus leaf! We patented the clean water of mountain brooks!” Yao-Ba cackled. “Every time a mortal brewed herbal tea to treat a child’s cough, our compliance spirits levied a twenty-copper licensing fine! Medicine is an asset class, not charity!”
Beside her, Seventh Director Gu-Du raised his colossal iron scythe, his chitinous jaws clacking in rhythmic glee.
“Every time a farming galaxy produced bumper harvests, we released the locust swarms to eat seventy percent of the grain!” Gu-Du roared. “Artificial scarcity is the foundation of high prices! If bread is cheap, how can we force peasants into debt-slavery?! Burn their legal scrolls! Rot their silos!”
