On the iron platform of Station #50, the wind from the Dark-Rift Gravity Storm howled like a pack of starving wolves, yet Ye Guhan did not blink once.
He remained on one knee in his neat blue railway worker’s jacket, his eyes fixed on Pei Xuan with the burning devotion of a pilgrim asking a mountain god for a secret scripture. Above his head, the bright green Loyalty Bar pulsed at [98/100], practically shooting out little golden sparks.
Ten feet behind Pei Xuan, Abacus Su quietly leaned over to Hong Ling and whispered behind his ledger, “Miss Hong Ling, if we hired a team of Rank 8 Star-Formation Masters from the Central Star Belt to clear a three-light-year gravity storm, they would charge us at least thirty trillion Spirit Stones plus three meals of spirit-meat a day. Watch how the Lord handles it—not only is Brother Ye about to cut the road for free, he’s ready to pay us if the line isn’t straight!”
“Hmph, that’s because the Young Master actually cares about Little Ye’s sword training,” Hong Ling whispered back, though her fingers were already happily tapping her silver abacus. “Don’t just stand there whispering, Abacus Su! Go write up the training waiver before he calms down!”
