Lin Mo, 28 years old, a top game planner, suffered from heart disease and was trapped in a wheelchair for three years. His only companion was a Pikachu pillow.
When he opened his eyes again, he became a fifteen-year-old boy in the slums of Kanto. His father died in a mining accident, his mother was seriously ill and bedridden, and his entire property was seventeen yuan.
This is not the Pokémon world that I remember, full of friendship and dreams.
The alliance's certification system is a class shackle. The gym registration fee is enough to feed a slum family for a year; the released Pokémon wait for death in the garbage dump; the battle between trainers is not completed, and losing may lead to bankruptcy.
In the garbage dump, Lin Mo picked up a dying Nidoran. It had broken legs, broken thorns, and scars all over its body. It was so abused by humans that it didn't even dare to approach the Poké Ball.
He knelt down and looked into those eyes that were filled with fatigue and unwillingness.
Relying on the game knowledge from his previous life, he brewed potions, laid traps, and explored the edges of the black market.
This is not a story about love and bond. This is a story about a man who climbed out of the abyss and used all means to climb up.
When the world never sympathizes with the weak - then become strong
