CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!
Across the northern sky, ten thousand colossal Golden Sickle Harvester Ships dropped their lower bow hatches in unison.
From the belly of each thirty-thousand-mile warship, a curved, jagged blade forged from Upper-World Soul-Draining Gold swung downward like the scythe of a giant grim reaper. Carved along the flat of every blade were millions of wailing spirit-faces—the trapped remnants of ancient galaxies that General Jin Ge had harvested over the past million years.
On the bridge of the golden flagship, Harvester General Jin Ge stood with his boots planted wide, his face still purple with rage over Pei Xuan’s parking-ticket broadcast.
“A mortal village mayor dares to threaten the Heaven-Reaping Ministry with an impound lot?!” Jin Ge spat on the golden deck plates and slammed his armored fist onto the firing pedestal. “Link all ten thousand Soul-Sucking Golden Sickles! Target their bustling hub—Galaxy #101! Fire the Ten-Thousand-Sickle Extinction Beam at maximum output! I want every star in that galaxy sucked cold, every blade of grass turned to white ash, and all two trillion of their residents drained into dried meat-jerky in three breaths!”
“Yes, General!”
One hundred thousand Upper-World harvester crewmen poured their divine Qi into the array cores.
