Inside the conquered [Fifth-Dimensional Blood-Gold Fortress], the four burlap potato sacks containing the frozen King of Betrayal, King of Despair & Plague, King of Plunder, and King of Massacre began to vibrate faintly.
Even with their Golden Fate-Quills (#1–#4) snapped in half and their Author Halos shattered to 0.0%, all four outer Script-Kings still possessed immortal fifth-dimensional Author Souls forged over ten million years. Left alone in a prison cell, those fifth-dimensional souls would slowly absorb stray narrative energy from the void and thaw out unless they were continuously suppressed by honest, sweat-soaked mortal karma!
“Look at these four sacks wiggling on the floor, Wife,” thirty-five-year-old Gu Changsheng chuckled, tapping the drawstring of Sack #1 with the toe of his boot.
“If we just lock them up in a dungeon, they’ll spend all day daydreaming about edgy revenge plots. As any experienced parent knows, when four spoiled brats have too much destructive energy, the best medicine is outdoor physical labor and community service!”
“Little Fifth’s highway crew in Sector 4 still has four hundred million miles of rough asteroid gravel to chip and level along the outer inter-galactic expressways,” Empress Luo Qingxue noted calmly, brushing a speck of frost off her sleeve. “And the 10,000 Reformed Clones they treated like disposable cannon fodder are currently supervising the road-paving shifts.”
