The rain in New Kunlun City always carries a lingering metallic smell.
It is not like "the light rain on the sky street moistens the sky" as described in ancient books, but like countless cold steel needles, densely piercing every crevice of this steel jungle, washing away the glitz of the glazed dome in the upper city, and then dumping all the filth and decadence into the mud in the lower city.
Li Fan was lying in the mud.
