The brass whistle of the Dry-Well Express No. 1 echoed across the border of System #40, where the gleaming white-dwarf forges of the Heavy-Metal Cluster gave way to a vast, dusty expanse of yellow-brown space.
Pei Xuan stood on the wide observation deck of the command train car, holding a warm ceramic mug of Sweet-Spring green tea. Behind him, fifty thousand newly stamped Civic Patrol Cruisers hung in neat, silent formations, their black-iron hulls gleaming under the light of the border beacon. Inside Pei Xuan’s dantian, his Rank 8 Mid Solar Furnace spun steadily, wrapped in a fresh shell of tempered star-steel that radiated a soothing, golden warmth through his meridians.
He tapped his finger in the air, pulling up his Territory Screen to check the morning numbers before pushing the rail tracks into the next ten solar systems.
“Fifty agricultural planets across ten suns,” Pei Xuan murmured, taking a sip of tea. “According to the old star maps we took from Warlord Tie Kuang’s vault, Systems 41 to 50 used to be the main grain basket for this corner of the star belt. Once we hook their farms up to our Sweet-Spring irrigation pipes, we’ll have enough fresh vegetables to stock every hot-pot kitchen from here to Planet Canglan.”
