On the wide white-granite square outside Central Rift Station, ten million ghost-cultivators of the former Nine-Nether Ghost Immortal Sect stood in neat, nervous rows under the warm golden light of the three ceiling suns.
At the very front of the formation stood Ghost Ancestor Xuan Ming—who had neatly cut two armholes in the sides of his [Rank 9 Dragon-Wool Electric Heated Blanket] so he could wear it like a plush red-and-gold plaid cape while plugging a hundred-mile wireless battery pack into his belt—flanked by the Four Bone-Kings and Ghost-Admiral Yin Kui (who had combed his giant static-electricity afro into a tidy square flattop).
Every single ghost in the square was holding an empty porcelain soup bowl, their cheeks still rosy pink from drinking Old Guo’s Pure-Yang Ginger & Roasted Lamb Soup.
“Quiet in the ranks! Stand up straight!” Ghost Ancestor Xuan Ming barked, puffing out his chest inside his warm electric-blanket cape as he addressed his ten million disciples. “Lord Pei is about to announce our work assignments to pay off my eight-hundred-trillion-coin sewage fine! Nobody is allowed to slack off! Whoever loses face for our Nine-Nether Sect and gets our electric blankets unplugged will be spanked by this Ancestor personally!”
