Crawling on his hands and knees beneath the shadow of the overturned Jade Writing Desk, the shrunken Chief Author of Fate froze like a mouse caught with its whiskers in the pantry lard jar.
Slowly, with his neck creaking like an un-oiled hinge, the former ten-thousand-foot god of the nine books craned his head upward.
Standing right over him was Rank 10 Peak Dao-Father Gu Changsheng, surrounded by Empress Luo Qingxue and all five Early Rank 10 Creator children. Every single one of them looking down at him with their arms crossed.
Without his ten-thousand-foot cloak of stolen destiny ink and his broken Brush of Cosmic Deletion, the Chief Author of Fate (The Old Script Will) looked utterly pathetic. He was a scrawny, hunched-over fellow with messy ink-stained hair sticking out of his sliced-off hat. Heavy dark circles under his bloodshot eyes from three million years of staying up late writing edgy plot twists.
Two bright red hand-prints on the seat of his trousers where the Seven-Wolves belt had just landed.
“Going somewhere without cleaning up the mess you made in the living room?” Gu Changsheng asked mildly.
He reached down with one large, calloused hand, pinched the back of the Chief Author’s ink-stained collar between his thumb and forefinger. Lifted the kicking, flailing mastermind of ten billion years straight off the floor like a naughty schoolboy caught trying to skip detention!
