Inside the grand Golden-Dragon Throne Room of the Imperial Palace, not a single royal bodyguard remained at his post.
Ten minutes earlier, when the five hundred Royal Palace Guards smelled Old Guo’s Rank 4 Nine-Herb Mutton Pill Soup drifting over the Meridian Gate and saw Chief Immortal Advisor Perfected Nine-Swords get hammered into the lawn like a radish by a giant golden brick, every last guard had politely stacked their gold-plated halberds in the umbrella rack, taken off their helmets, and jogged out the side door to line up for Citizen ID cards!
Now, the heavy red-lacquer doors of the throne room pushed open with a creak.
Pei Xuan walked in calmly, flanked by General Tie Zhan, Old Wei, Hong Ling, and Boom-Pot Sun. Behind them marched Abacus Su at the head of five hundred uniformed Dry-Well Municipal Accountants, each carrying an iron abacus, three red-ink brushes, and a stack of inventory tags.
The giant throne room was quiet, except for a loud, rhythmic rattling sound coming from behind the nine-dragon silk screen at the back of the hall:
Clatter-clatter-clatter-clink!
“Young Master,” Old Wei pointed his broadsword toward the massive, four-poster Golden Dragon-Bed sitting in the royal bedchamber behind the throne. “The bed is shaking.”
