Other people transmigrate to a post-apocalyptic wasteland: scavenging for junk, scraping by, never knowing if they’ll see another day.
I transmigrate to a post-apocalyptic wasteland: open the [Pinduoduo Platform] and invite friends to chop prices, earning purified water; get free shipping on a nuclear power plant for just 9.9; collect twenty gang points to unlock access to satellite weapons.
Other people cultivate immortality: divine manuals are impenetrable, and heavenly treasures appear once in a century.
I cultivate immortality: open the [Entry System] and replace the entries on the Blazing Heaven Art, changing [Extremely Easy to Suffer Qi Deviation] to [Can Be Practiced with Your Eyes Closed]; replace the entry on a thousand-year-old vermilion fruit, changing [Ripens Once Every Thousand Years] to [Ripens Once a Day].
Other people encounter ghosts: praying to gods and Buddhas, drawing talismans to drive away evil, and clinging to life.
I encounter ghosts: open the [Underworld Recruitment Letter]. “Applicant No. 9374, congratulations on passing the preliminary examination at the Hall of Yama. Please report to the City God Temple before midnight. Failure to do so will be considered a voluntary withdrawal.”
Gods and Buddhas have vanished, and ghosts run rampant? I pull out my transfer order. Black Impermanence lights my cigarette, and the Judge helps me look through the Book of Life and Death.
The City God pats me on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work, kid. Five forms of insurance and a housing fund, double pay at the end of the year, and after a hundred years on the job, you can apply for the express reincarnation program.”
Other people play cards: rare cards are hard to come by.
I play cards: open the [Card Editor] and tweak, tweak, tweak.
System prompt: This card does not exist? No problem, switch to [Custom Generation] mode and make one yourself.
My name is Lin Bei, and my cheats aren’t exactly proper.
But I’ve cleared every one of these dungeons.
