987, three big news

"How come, uncle, isn't the death rate three in ten thousand? Can official entries be false?" Shepherd in the Clouds put on a pitiful look and asked weakly.

"Of course... Of course not, little brother," the mercenary uncle was almost exasperated: "It's not just three in ten thousand, by my estimation the death rate is at least around 15%! Every year 15%!

And that 15% are the ones who die, at least half of them are left with serious injuries and disabilities! After all, the planetary storms on Bona Star are no joke, with speeds of 120 meters per second, a moment's inattention can lead to complete obliteration!"

The mercenary uncle took a big gulp of his drink and said with a heavy heart, "Little brother, no matter what, you must never go to Bona Star! If you go, you won't come back."

"Okay, uncle." Shepherd in the Clouds was very obedient.

Then he quickly asked again, "By the way, uncle, why would the official entry write the death rate so low?"