Celestial Court Chat Group: I Slay Evil in the Age of Dharma Decline

During the morning rush, Line 2 of the subway was packed shoulder to shoulder. He held up a cup of soy milk in his left hand and gripped his phone in his right. When a message popped up saying the client had changed the requirements for the seventeenth time, the crowd had pushed his feet off the ground, leaving him like a slice of luncheon meat crammed into a can. Someone’s elbow knocked his cup, and the spilled liquid landed squarely on the collar of his white shirt. It was warm, with the distinctive beany smell of cheap soy milk.