Lin Mo, a 25-year-old programmer, died suddenly while working overtime.
When he opened his eyes again, a mahogany sword was slashed from above his head - the man holding the sword had a lean figure, a yellow robe, and between his brows and brows he actually looked like the cover character of the folder named "Lin Zhengying Zombie Collection" deep in his hard drive. In the direction of the sword's edge, a green-faced zombie retreated.
A barrage exploded in his mind: "If you don't worship Lin Zhengying in this life, even if you are the protagonist, it will be in vain."
So he squatted in front of the incense table in Yizhuang, honestly spread out the yellow paper and cinnabar, and traced the talismans and seals stroke by stroke. Others relied on brute force to catch ghosts, but he compiled a new logical structure in the sea of consciousness - spells were codes, and every stroke of cinnabar was an executable instruction; formations were system architecture, with nodes, links, and fault-tolerance mechanisms all indispensable.
Maoshan Taoism, which others regard as mysterious and mysterious, is being dismantled into reproducible function calls line by line.
