The central plaza of Mount Apex had been converted into a four-bay commercial wash tunnel.
“Next ticket!” Shen Shitou bellowed, his voice echoing over the rhythmic, locomotive chug of the air pump. “Ticket forty-two! Drop your silk sash and step onto the rubber mat!”
An 8-Star Elder from the Heavenly Script Hall, fifty percent stone-hard in glassy black glass, eagerly scrambled forward on all fours. He grabbed a red paper claim ticket between his teeth.
Princess Jiang Ling’er cracked her bypass valve, her dragon boiler whistling as she adjusted the steam feed to a scorching one hundred and eighty degrees.
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH!
Four stainless steel spray lances fired in timed together, overlapping arcs.
Niu Mang swept the grey runoff into the neutralization trench with rhythmic clangs of his shovel. Xiao Yu struck his a deep hum tuning fork against the copper pipe hub to dampen ringing pressure spikes. Murong Seven held the grounding rods firm, venting ten thousand volts of triboelectric charge safely into the subfloor bedrock.
Within two hours, forty-eight stone-hard elders, Hall Masters, and senior exam guards had been blasted, emulsified, and scrubbed.
