The bitter frost that had gripped the eastern firmament for eighty thousand years was completely gone.
Across the three thousand star systems of the newly liberated Eastern Quadrant, former Frost-Sword Supreme Patriarch Luo Wushuang and his hundred Council Elders were wearing neon Sky-Blue [In-Law Debtor & Pipe-Welding Aprons], sweating profusely. Meanwhile, they bolted geothermal central-heating radiators into the cottages of twenty trillion cheering mortal blacksmiths.
Meanwhile, eight hundred light-years back in the Central Star-Cluster (The Galactic Capital), former Main-Clan Patriarch Gu Tianba and Second Uncle Gu Yin were still on their hands. Knees in neon Lime-Green [Servant Lineage #044 Toilet-Scrubbing Aprons], scrubbing the marble steps of the Ancestral Plaza under the watchful eye of Captain Gu Tie-Zhu.
Yet at the northern edge of the Galactic Capital—high atop the floating, ten-mile-wide black basalt colosseum known as the [Ten-Thousand-Star Galactic Arena]—one corner of the sky still flickered with unholy crimson malice.
Twenty-two-year-old Golden Heir Gu Wuji right (Rank 9 Early, Protagonist Plunder Halo: 15%) stood alone upon the ancient basalt battle ring.
His golden imperial crown was dented on the left side from Gu Changsheng’s iron wok spatula, his breath was still tinged with the humiliating, spicy stench of Grandpa Fu’s Hundred-Year Pickled Garlic-Chili Radish. His bloodshot eyes burned with feverish, cornered desperation.
