In the era of cyber e-sports where neon lights and blood stains intersect, the genius boy Ah Shui exchanged a pentakill for his mother's dialysis fee and stepped into the abyss of quantum gambling. When he discovered that every victory was devouring the players' brain nerves, and every last hit was marked with the price of organs on the dark web, this e-sports feast had long been reduced to a human harvesting ground for capital.
The left hand is the mother's fading heartbeat monitor, and the right hand is the quenching quantum peripheral. In the matrix of the brain-computer interface, Ah Shui started a cross-dimensional game with the clone army of the Timmy Group - his VN silver crossbow could penetrate the folds of time and space, but cut off the umbilical cord-like data chain; Lin Xiaoxiao's spine optical cable weaved resistance programs, but was also a fatal bait for recursive traps. When money rains from the dome of the e-sports stadium and brainwave tombstones float on the bottom of the Huangpu River, those sacrificed players will eventually be reborn in the binary hymn of newborn babies crying.
This is "Cyberpunk 2077" for e-sports madmen, "One Hundred Years of Solitude" trapped in a server, and a quantum requiem dedicated to all teenagers in Internet cafes. When your heartbeat becomes an odds parameter, and when your mother's smile becomes an attack speed bonus, the only rule of victory in this game is to forge yourself into a virus arrow that pierces the system.
