The Abyss of Divine Play

"Cthulhu punk architecture, no harem, no cool writing, no brainless, no system, no invincibility, no routine, please be careful if you mind" Under the blood moon, the world faded away from the glaze of civilization and became a theater of games between gods. Lu Li woke up from the morgue, with a non-human mechanical heart beating in his stitched chest. In his ears were the eternal whispers of the audience - they were thirsty for blood, lies and desperate performances. The sister on the hospital bed is the only anchor point, but the girl as pale as paper is the butterfly struggling on the pendulum of doomsday, and the thread hanging down from the skirt of the old god. When the gears of the mechanical heart shattered time and space, and when the aberrations fed by lies gnawed at the neon lights, Lu Li caught a glimpse of the truth in the quantum ruins: the so-called time travel was just the endgame rolled off the fingertips of the gods. Eighteen oracles grow wildly in the cracks of human nature. In the coffin poured with steam and code, civilization is waiting for the applause of the curtain call. The string puller in the center of the stage was handing him a blood-stained script from the mirror. This is an escape using tears as lamp oil. Lies are the blade, cutting through the cocoon of memory; the truth is the hanging anchor, piercing the membrane of dimensions. When all the characters are alienated in their expectations, only the souls who have betrayed the world dare to expose the hypocritical monologue of the gods on the curtain of the end.