“What do I want you and your one thousand ships to do?”
Thirty-two-year-old Gu Changsheng walked over to the white picket fence of the [Gu Family Flying Courtyard Star-Fortress] and looked out across the starry clearing at the one thousand captured five-to-ten-mile-long dreadnoughts sitting inside Little Fifth’s ten-thousand-mile silver dragon corral.
Right now, all one thousand pirate warships were painted a dreary, soot-stained pitch-black, covered in jagged bone spikes, rusty iron chains, and grinning white skull emblems.
Gu Changsheng shook his head in profound domestic disapproval.
“Look at the paint job on your fleet, Admiral Black-Skull,” Gu Changsheng said, pointing his [Rank 7 Peak Iron Wok Spatula] at the gloomy black hulls.
“My five kids and I have traveled across ten worlds to pick up my wife and bring her home for dinner after twelve years apart. Do you think any sensible husband shows up at his wife’s front door driving a convoy of rusty black hearses covered in skulls? It’s ugly, it’s terrible feng shui, and it ruins the festive mood of a family reunion.”
Inside the five-hundred-gallon sour cabbage barrel, [Half-Step Rank 8 Star-Lord Admiral Black-Skull] blinked his one good eye as pickled cabbage juice dripped off his chin:
