At the northernmost gate of the Galactic Star-Ring Night Market, where the 100-light-year ring of red lanterns faced the deep interior of the Orion-Jade Spiral Arm, a fleet of five hundred battered bronze cargo ships and one gleaming golden pavilion-ship glided out of the wormhole exit.
The ships belonged to a massive merchant and craftsman caravan traveling from the Galactic Core Sector—the ancient, wealthy heart of the Spiral Arm where 108 Immortal Sects and Cosmic Martial Dynasties had ruled like untouchable gods for a hundred thousand years.
On the deck of the lead bronze ship stood Master Lu, a white-haired Rank 7 Peak star-shipwright whose family had built cargo vessels in the Galactic Core for ten generations. Behind him crowded three hundred thousand exhausted craftsmen, herb farmers, and apprentice mechanics, all wearing patched clothes and carrying their tools on their backs.
And floating beside them on the gleaming golden pavilion-ship was Elder Zhao (Rank 8 Early), a sharp-nosed inner-hall inspector from the Golden-Pagoda Immortal Sect of the Galactic Core.
“Master Lu, I still say you are being tricked by frontier rumors!”
Elder Zhao folded his hands behind his gold-embroidered robe and sneered coldly as he looked out at the glowing archway of the Star-Ring Night Market.
