CLANK—LOCK! SZZZZZZZ!
Two thousand barbed Soul-Draining Dragon-Butchering Chains locked tightly around eleven-year-old Ao Xing’s small boots and chubby ankles above the Frost-Wind Main Galaxy.
On the bridges of the fifty thousand refugee transports cradled in Ao Xing’s silver-gold dragon whiskers, Commander Bei and millions of northern miners and mothers cried out in horror:
“Young Master Ao Xing! Let go of our ships and defend yourself! Those are fifth-dimensional Dragon-Butchering Chains forged to drain the marrow of immortal dragons!”
“No! If Young Master Ao Xing lets go of his whiskers or swings his claws to break the chains, the spatial shockwave will set off the 100,000 Hostage-Linked Void Mines under our homeworlds! Those shameless red-armored demons are using two hundred trillion of us as hostages so he can’t fight back!”
Up in the fifth-dimensional Blood-Iron Palace, the King of Massacre grinned beneath his horned iron mask. Hammering his Golden Fate-Quill #4 furiously across his typewriter keys to send a crimson flood of Targeted Trauma-Script & Bloodline-Draining Code surging down the two thousand chains straight into Ao Xing’s mind and meridians:
“Why waste a perfectly good Rank 8 Peak Void Dragon by killing him quickly?” the King of Massacre sneered as he cranked the winches of the two thousand chains.
