At the far western edge of the Sword-Mountain Sector, right where the thousandth station of the Orion-Jade Main Line ended, sat Toll Booth #88.
It was a neat, square wooden hut painted in Dry-Well Village’s official municipal yellow. Outside the window, a freshly paved twelve-lane highway of Grade-8 Space Asphalt stretched into the dark void, lit by rows of glowing spirit-lamps. Beside the wooden barrier gate stood a metal sign written in three galactic languages:
WELCOME TO DRY-WELL SPIRAL ARM HIGHWAY. PASSING FEE: 1 PAPER GRAIN-NOTE PER SHIP. NO LITTERING. NO SPITTING METEORS. HEAVY VEHICLES USE RIGHT LANE.
Inside Toll Booth #88, General Tie Zhan sat on a reinforced iron stool with a giant bamboo steamer basket between his knees. Even though he was now a Rank 8 Peak Solar Furnace powerhouse whose blood-Qi could boil an ocean, Tie Zhan was still barely five feet tall, broad as a water barrel, and completely focused on his lunch.
“Old Guo really outdid himself today,” Tie Zhan mumbled happily. He picked up a white pork bun the size of a human head, dipped it into a big clay bowl of hot pickled-mustard bone soup, and took a huge bite. Rich, spicy meat juice ran down his chin. “The star-ox pork mixed with nebula-scallions is tender enough to swallow without chewing!”
