The nine mechanical clockwork griffins flapped their brass wings with a loud, squeaky clank-whir, lowering the solid-gold flying chariot to hover thirty feet above Central Smelting Square.
As the chariot stopped, a built-in array of twenty crystal speakers beneath the floorboards automatically blasted a pre-recorded choir of angels singing “All Hail the Sacred Weapon Saint!” while two mechanical tubes at the rear sprayed fake golden glitter and rose petals down over the magma pit.
Up on the porch of the [Gu Family Flying Courtyard], eight-year-old Jiang Tuntun squinted through the falling glitter and sneezed twice.
“Papa,” Jiang Tuntun said, rubbing her nose with the back of her wrist. “Why is that shiny man throwing gold paper in people’s soup? You can’t eat gold paper!”
“Because when the product inside the box is garbage,” Gu Changsheng said calmly, leaning against the wooden porch rail with his [Rank 7 Cast-Iron Wok Spatula] tucked into his apron belt, “the salesman has to spend ninety percent of his budget on the wrapping paper.”
Up in the golden chariot, twenty-year-old Chosen One Lei Zhen struck a practiced, benevolent pose with one boot resting on the brass railing. Moreover, His white fur cape billowing in the artificial wind fan hidden under his boots.
