The thirty-ship astral delivery convoy drifted in disciplined silence through the shadowed asteroid belt bordering the Central Frozen Astral Fortress. Each transport barge was forged from dark star-steel, painted with the silver-white crest of the Astral Culinary Guild. Packed with ten thousand tons of fresh spirit-pork, marrow bones, and aged wine meant exclusively for Warden Tianfa’s inner-ring officers.
At the helm of the lead supply barge stood Chef-General Pang, a portly Rank 7 Peak culinary enforcer whose round belly strained against his starched silver-buttoned tunic. Hanging from his belt was a heavy purple-gold soul-jade hardwired directly to the alarm bell of Barrier Gate #1. One crack in that jade would lock down all nine layers of the fortress in half a breath.
Chef-General Pang adjusted his tall star-silk chef’s hat and let out a long, miserable sigh. His round face wore the hollow, joyless expression of a man who had been forced to boil unseasoned ice-cabbage for three hundred years.
“Check the cargo seals on Hold Three,” Pang rasped, his voice echoing across the cold steel bridge. “Warden Tianfa’s logistics censor is inspecting the lower mess halls tonight. If a single grain of spirit-rice is out of place, or if anyone sneaks a pinch of five-spice powder into the guard rations, he’ll have us flogged for violating the Emotionless Dao.”
