Inside the newly fused [Fifth-Dimensional Blood-Gold Fortress], the third Script-King (The King of Plunder) and the fourth Script-King (The King of Massacre) stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind a massive, double-wide iron-and-gold desk. Their faces dripping with cold sweat as they aimed Golden Script-Typewriters #3 and #4 directly at the front entrance!
Every wall of the fused fortress was now plated with twelve feet of stolen fifth-dimensional star-gold reinforced by ten million layers of blood-soaked iron armor. Meanwhile, thousands of automated sword-turrets and wealth-confiscation arrays hummed frantically across the ceiling.
“Listen carefully, Fourth Brother!” the King of Plunder hissed through his cracked golden abacus mask, his plump, ring-covered fingers trembling over his typewriter keys as he stared at the shaking front doors.
“The only reason the King of Betrayal and the King of Plague lost so fast is that they fought alone and only fired one sentence at a time. This gave Gu Changsheng three seconds to grade their sentences with his [Red-Ink Teacher’s Auto-Correct Pen]! Even a Rank 9 Late teacher only has one right hand—he can’t rewrite two separate fifth-dimensional sentences coming from two different typewriters on two separate tracks at the exact same microsecond!”
“You’re right!” the King of Massacre snarled, clutching his three broken ribs under his blood-iron breastplate. Where eleven-year-old Little Fifth Ao Xing had stamped a dragon footprint onto his chest earlier. While using a pair of heavy iron pliers to manually press the broken stub where his [ENTER] key used to be.
