Wake up and travel to the cyberpunk world of 2230. There is no system, no golden fingers. His only brother was shot in front of him the day he opened his eyes.
There are only three things left to the Ming Dynasty. A kinetic revolver. A military-spec encrypted Bird data card. A group of low-level brothers who can break up at any time.
Century City does not warm up the weak. The five giant companies monopolize everything and trade lives on the streets for credits. The Ming Dynasty does not trade lives, he trades information for lives. The battlefield instincts in his previous life were superimposed on the original owner's intelligence channels, allowing him to see three steps further than others in the undercurrent of information. People outside knew this face, but they didn't know that there was someone behind it.
From the sewer clinic to the card table of intelligence secret warfare. Killing with a borrowed knife, killing with nothing, every piece of information is like a stone that knocks over the chessboard. There is a gap in information at every step, and someone dies in every round.
Cyberpunk × information dealer × power game. Not brainless, not wise.
