The golden bell toll was so sharp it set Lin Ke’s dental nerves on fire.
High in the upper vaults of the newly restored sky, three thousand golden clouds drifted downward like bloated, gold-trimmed galleons. The air reeked of sandalwood, dried frankincense, and ancient, unbending usury—the distinct stench of institutional debt collection.
Dropping from the golden clouds were several hundred Celestial Karmic Tax Collectors.
They were terrifying, faceless apparitions clad in royal brocade robes. They held golden abacuses that clacked with ear-splitting, metal clicks. Each bead on their abacuses represented ten thousand years of mortal karmic debt. Their scrolls glowed with the names of ancient dynasties.
“Who authorized the mass reallocation of universal memory?” the lead collector’s voice echoed across the plateau. It shook with the legalist weight of the Second Epoch. “Who voided the sovereign write leases of the Arch-Monarchs? Present the debtor for spiritual forced payout!”
A vanguard battalion drew their swords, but Lin Ke held up a weak hand from his blankets.
“Don’t swing iron at them,” Lin Ke rasped, coughing into his fist. “They aren’t physical combatants. They’re debt collection bots running an ancient judgment subroutine.”
“Let me handle this,” a trembling, indignant voice interrupted.
