The hundred-mile spatial rift above the Central Continent bled crimson and gold light across the afternoon clouds.
Out of that jagged wound in the sky glided the three-mile prow of an Upper-Realm Punitive Warship. Forged from dark meteoric iron and lined with forty thousand screaming blood-runes, the vessel looked like a floating mountain of rusted blades. Every rotation of its astral engines sent dull, suffocating shockwaves booming across the mountains and valleys of Planet Canglan.
Down in the Gu Family Courtyard at the foot of Supreme Sword Mountain, the warm snow-white phoenix flame above [Empress Luo Qingxue’s Frost-Phoenix Hairpin] flickered gently in Gu Changsheng’s left palm.
“Wait right there, Qingxue,” Gu Changsheng murmured softly into the glowing hairpin, his thumb brushing the carved silver phoenix wing with steady warmth. “Hold your link steady for thirty seconds. Some rude guests are trying to stomp on our roof before I open the door for you.”
“Dad,” eleven-year-old Gu Nian said, stepping up beside his father in his yellow bunny apron with his six Little Red Flower stickers gleaming on his chest. His small hand gripped the handle of his black cast-iron frying pan as he glared up at the three-mile warship. “Those three guys on the front deck have way nastier pressure than Envoy Xue Sha!
