Some people pay a fortune for combat personalities. Others entrust their bodies to hibernation pods and fight for the nation's AI in the networked realm.
Xu Zhao is different.
He has no military account, no advanced access, and even the login pod is rented. On the day the war began, he was handling an ad for shampoo that was about to expire. The remaining payment was ninety-eight yuan.
Then he dragged the three-second protective shield from the ad out of the playback window.
The moves in the video became his moves.
The enemy's fortress became his source material.
The world the gods fought over was added to his transfer queue.
"Which side are you on, anyway?"
Xu Zhao glanced at the people behind him who had yet to evacuate.
"I'm on the recipients' side."
Later, the AI of his homeland was about to be erased completely.
Every superintelligence had calculated that its defeat was inevitable.
Only that transfer worker opened a blank draft.
