In this world, cards are everything.
During the eighteen-year-old awakening ceremony, everyone's cards were either fireballs, lightning, or armored beast claws - only Lynch's card contained three men.
One was stroking his beard and holding a sword, one was glaring with a spear across his shoulder, and the other was weeping with his hands folded. They say: Don't ask for someone to be born on the same day, same year, same month, same day.
The whole school was in an uproar: Why can one card summon three combat units at the same time?
Lynch looked down at the graffiti he had drawn for eighteen years in the corner of the textbook and closed the notebook.
Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Liu Bei, Zhao Yun, Zhuge Liang, the Monkey King—those names painted in the corners of textbooks will be written one by one by his own hands in this world.
Others rely on talent and family inheritance to make cards.
What Lynch relies on are the unfinished stories in his past life memories.
"What is the nature of the cards?" The teacher asked.
"Story," Lynch said, "a card is a story. The more complete the story, the stronger the card."
The whole class burst into laughter.
Until his Guan Yu slashed open the carapace of the S-class beast.
This story has just reached the first page.
