A wheelchair. A urine bag. Clouded eyes.
This was the state of the human race's guardian, once a legend of the apocalypse: an Alzheimer's-ravaged body and a soul waiting to die.
Then one day, as Lan Feng basked in the sun on his balcony, the familiar din of battle suddenly rang in his ears.
Gunfire, screams, the roars of strange beasts...
His cloudy eyes suddenly narrowed. He roared, “Aging is an illusion! The apocalypse is over, that's an illusion! Alzheimer's is an illusion too. It's all an illusion! You can't fool me!”
For the first time in decades, strength flowed back into his limp body. He struggled with all his might, toppled from his wheelchair, and crawled toward the sound, digging his fingernails into the floor. He was ready to launch himself at the enemy in a thrilling battle, descending from above with a furious glare.
Then he met his grandson's incredulous eyes and saw the opening cinematic of some apocalypse war game playing behind him.
A few years later, a group of “reborn” people made a grand spectacle of exposing themselves in front of cameras, with rifles and cannons on display, proclaiming that the new era belonged to them. “Trash from the old era should have been cleared out long ago.”
Lan Feng and his comrades, all wearing reading glasses, nodded in perfect unison. “They're right. We should start clearing out these reborn people who refuse to cooperate and resist registration.”
