At twelve noon sharp, the lunch whistle blew inside the Central Continental Utility Hall.
WHEEEEEET!
Ancestor Pill-Fire reluctantly took his feet out of the star-iron pedal straps of Bike #1. Over the past six hours of furious pedaling, his digital chest badge had ticked down by 600,000 Spirit Stones, his knees felt twenty years younger, and a fifth glossy black hair had popped out right above his left ear.
Better yet, right on cue, a kitchen apprentice wheeled in a steaming cart and handed each of the four Ancestors a big tin lunchbox filled with Old Guo’s Braised Spirit-Pork Belly over Golden-Crystal Rice, plus two crunchy pickled spirit-cabbages on the side.
“Still only eleven billion, two hundred and forty-nine million, four hundred thousand stones left to go,” Ancestor Pill-Fire muttered as he wolfed down the last grain of rice and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He stretched his back and looked toward the door where Old Wei was waiting with a clipboard. “All right, Gatekeeper Wei! My morning boiler shift is done! Where is the quiet meditation courtyard where this Ancestor takes his afternoon nap?”
Old Wei looked down at his clipboard and tapped it with his iron claw.
