Thirteen-year-old Jiang Tuntun’s megaphone announcement—backed by the sight of that glistening slice of Rank-8 Star-Ox Ribeye dripping with golden-red [Rank-9 Galactic Dragon-Marrow Hotpot Broth]. Hung in the air above the nine artificial moons for one single heartbeat.
On Banquet Moon #1, Second Uncle Gu Yin saw the ten million guests. Moons #2 through #9 rising halfway out of their stone chairs like ten million starving wolves who had just spotted a herd of fat sheep.
“GUARD CAPTAINS! BLOCK THE BRIDGES!”
Second Uncle Gu Yin lunged for the military command horn at the corner of the VIP stage and screamed until the veins in his neck bulged like earthworms:
“All five thousand Main-Clan Outer-Moon Enforcement Guards, form a three-row spear wall across the eight moon bridges right now! Take down the name and sect crest of anyone who takes a single step toward Gu Changsheng’s floating plaza! Any minor branch elder or tributary sect master who abandons Young Master Gu Wuji’s banquet to eat that rebel’s hotpot will be permanently blacklisted from the Galactic Capital’s trade registry.
Stripped of their third-class guest privileges, and fined fifty thousand spirit stones!”
CLANK-CLANK-CLANK-THUD!
Across the eight white-jade suspension bridges connecting Banquet Moons #2 through #9. Five thousand armored Main-Clan Enforcement Guards (Rank 6 and Rank 7) hurriedly locked their shields together, leveled their iron halberds at the ten million guests. Held up black recording jade-slips to intimidate the crowd.
