This is my first child. A story of struggle in the cyber wasteland. The protagonist Lu Zhao is an insulator, living in the rustwater of District 9. He has no system, no grandfather, only a handful of bones awakened from the garbage dump, and a bloodline of the Sword Immortal that has been buried for thousands of years. I tried to weld the cold steel and warm flesh together. Twist the corporate monopoly spiritual network and the seal left by the ancient sword master into a rope. There are swords growing out of rust, people searching for the truth in the torrent of data, and little dead ancient souls under the neon shadow.
When I was writing, I always thought: If cultivating immortals is no longer carefree and becomes a ration distributed by companies. If the end of the sword's flight is to hit the glass curtain wall of a skyscraper, how will the person holding the sword live? This story is my answer.
It's not perfect, like the rainy days in District 9. But it's real, it smells of rust, sweat, and blood.
Do you dare to come in?
