The black frost creeping from the crack in the vault doors crackled with the sharp sound of breaking bone.
Inside the narrow gap between the towering obsidian gates, a billion tiny blood-red eyes blinked in rhythmic unison. A heavy, oily odor of ancient rust, cold gold, and decayed paper rolled across the plaza, chilling the air until water vapor froze into black needles.
On the terrace, former First Executive Director Mo-Suan dropped his rubber plunger onto the stone. His knees buckled, and his neon-yellow sanitation vest rattled like dry parchment against his shivering ribs.
“He’s awake...” Mo-Suan whimpered, his teeth clicking together violently. “The Chairman is waking up! You fools have broken the outer seal on the Primordial Abacus! None of us will survive this! He will liquidate the courthouse, the fleet, and every living soul in thirty-three heavens!”
Qin Haoran strode over, snatched the plunger from the ground, and shoved it firmly back into Mo-Suan’s trembling claw.
“Pick up your company equipment, debtor,” Qin Haoran barked through his golden megaphone, his voice booming with authority. “The Chairman’s alarm clock doesn’t excuse you from public health responsibilities. Squad Ninety-Nine still has forty-eight thousand quintillion hours of community service on the books. Keep two hands on the handle and your eyes on the tiles.”
