(All right, it seems two characters in yesterday's announcement got censored. I meant the public Weixin—add a grass radical and let's see if it still gets censored! Those who use Weixin can search for "Yuan Tong Online." Please follow. ←← Surely this time it won't get censored, right?)
Sloth really was easy to pick up and hard to shake off. After staying home for only a few days, I already felt like I was rusting. Of course, there was still just as much daily work as ever, but you had to understand: reviewing reports and reading documents at home was on an entirely different level of stress from personally going out to save the world. When reviewing reports, you could keep a cup of hot tea nearby and have a daughter clinging to you. How could you be so leisurely when fighting for your life out there? Well, if Little Pao Pao was around, she would still cling to me even if I was fighting for my life outside, but that was beside the point.
The mimosa race we had encountered two days ago was still staying in Shadow City. Their merchant ship, the "Grass Ark," was currently undergoing repairs at a civilian starport. The report in my hands concerned that race. Under normal circumstances, intelligence on a Macro World caravan would never be sent directly to the heads of state. There were so many races in the Macro World that Sandora and I would be busy enough just counting their names. But because we had recently raised the priority of all intelligence related to the Ghost Ship, information on this perennial herb caravan—the only one that had ever directly collided with the Ghost Ship—had been sent over.
Come to think of it, there shouldn't be anything wrong with calling