Twenty-two years after the spiritual qi revival, all combat power in the world is expressed through cards.
Other people risk their lives farming monsters for card drops. I lie around and get new cards every day.
Other people toss out golden cards that can destroy heaven and earth. I only need to burn a single white card to downgrade your card on the spot.
Golden cards become purple cards, and purple cards become blue cards.
The fortune you've spent ten years building up is worth just one draw in front of me.
But nobody knows that every time I win, the black mist in my palm grows a little denser.
Nobody knows that one day, when I turned over a card, I saw a line of text on the back:
“If a shadow appears behind your opponent, surrender immediately.”
As luck would have it, I'm the one with a shadow behind me.
And as if that weren't enough, I'm gradually realizing that even the cards I receive every day were dealt in advance by someone else.
Fate is the dealer. The world is the card table.
