Nanjing, 1943. Chen Zhuoran's online presence is dead, and all forces are rushing to grab the military commander's latent list. The Japanese put a knife to his spine, No. 76 Poured truth serum into him, and even the underground party pointed their guns at his shadow in the dark. All he has left is a misfired bullet and a tiny storage space that takes a second to open - in that second of focus, his perception will drop by half, enough for an enemy to pierce his heart. In the torture room of the Special High School Division, Yingzuo Zhenzhao smiled and handed over the arrest warrant. Chen Zhuoran closed his eyes and focused. A second later, an American-made thermite grenade appeared in the palm of his hand, and the hot white flames engulfed the entire room. When the puppet legionnaires surrounded the abandoned factory, he pulled out a Czech-made light machine gun from space. The bullet belt was still stained with the newly captured tungsten grease. But every black technology weapon consumes scarce resources - high-purity alcohol, radio vacuum tubes, and special alloys. He must accurately calculate the timing of access in every dead-end game with less and more, and use that fatal second of blank space to exchange for a glimmer of hope for counterattack. He is a lone wolf who has been disconnected, and the five forces want to chew him into pieces. But they all forgot - the lone wolf's arsenal never pretends to be a retreat.
