“He wants me to aim thirty degrees to the east to water his cabbages?!”
Up on the bridge of the dented golden flagship, Harvester General Jin Ge wiped a trickle of golden divine blood from his chin. His crooked helmet was still jammed halfway down his forehead, and the smell of his own singed beard filled the command deck.
For eight hundred thousand years, Jin Ge had sailed across the mortal cosmos as the butcher of the Heaven-Reaping Ministry. Whenever his ten thousand Golden Sickle Harvester Ships appeared, Emperors wept, stars went dark, and trillions of mortals trembled like quail before a hawk.
Never—not once in eight hundred millennia—had a lower-realm mayor bounced his Extinction Beam off a rubber roof, used thirty percent of his sacred Qi to boil hot-pot water on a train, and then asked him over a megaphone to help grow winter cabbages!
“General! Our energy cannons cannot fire at the dome again!” the chief array master reported, his hands shaking as he pointed at a cracked crystal screen. “That dark-gold canopy has a strange elastic law woven into it! Any ranged beam or spell we shoot will just bounce back into our hulls and give them more free electricity!”
