"They said I was both a monk and a virus."
Chen Song's mechanical prosthetic eye reflected three nightmares: the neon flying sword cutting off the phantom tentacles in the torrent of data, the pupils of the old rulers opening in the quantum thunder cloud, and the endless binary prayer deep in the spiritual root chip.
As a black market miner, he should have died during the siege by the scavengers of the sewage pipes in District 9 - until the Chaos Spirit Root chip stained with Cthulhu's rotten blood allowed him to see the dirtiest truth in the world of cyber cultivation:
Tianji Pavilion's "ascension program" is actually a ritual of sacrificing consciousness to Azathoth. The cultivator's Dantian reactor burns the ancient god's embryo, and the so-called tribulation is nothing more than uploading soul slices to the flesh and blood server.
Now, his left hand is holding the fragment of the "Necronomicon" that can rewrite the cultivation code, and his right arm is parasitic with the restraining tentacles that swallow up the cyber sword cultivator. The prophet of the wasteland asked him to open the door to the old days, and the Tianji Pavilion offered a reward of one billion spiritual crystals to buy his head. However, the group of low-level monks struggling under the mechanical moon actually regarded his distorted chaotic spiritual roots as the totem of the new god.
There is no neutral option in this bet:
Either tear apart the lies of the cybernetic civilization and let the truth of Cthulhu swallow the galaxy;
Either become the craziest god-killer in history, carve out a path of transgression for mankind in the bloody flames where the code of cultivation and the whispers of the ancient gods perished together.
