For twelve days and twelve nights, the All-Terrain Rolling Slime Barge carved a track of hope through the desiccated western frontier of the Great Qian Empire.
The expedition crossed over three thousand two hundred li of sun-baked earth. It crossed eighteen mortal counties that had been brought to the brink of extinction by the sky solar inversion: Heyang, Baishi, Qingchuan, Wansha, Guyuan, Pingchuan, and twelve others. In every county, the scene had mirrored Fengsha before Lin Xiao’s arrival. Dry irrigation chimney pipes were choked with blowing dust. Starved cattle lay dead in the fields. And corrupt local merchant syndicates guarded shallow, muddy reservoirs with hired swords, charging exorbitant prices for foul water.
Yet wherever the strange wooden wagon with its blue-tinted watching dome rolled, the nightmare broke.
A rhythmic, almost musical routine developed among the expedition crew. It ran with the seamless care of a master clockwork gearwork.
First, the barge would glide into a county capital’s desiccated market square or a central farming commune. Land-mapper Lu-Lu would scamper out on his webbed otter paws, his brass monocle flashing as he tapped the earth with his copper tuning hammer. Within three minutes, the otter elder would pinpoint the optimal deep-rock fault-line where the underground artesian table lay under maximum deep water pressure.
