Shen Lang's biggest wish in this life is to save a car of his own.
I was fired by my boss, laughed at by my classmates, and only had a few dozen dollars left in my pocket. On the 29th of the twelfth lunar month, he picked up a Dongfeng coupe that had been smashed into scrap metal from the scrap metal pile in the backyard of the repair shop - no engine, no battery, no glass, and only an iron shell.
That night, the car spoke to him.
"I have been sleeping for four thousand years. Your grandfather has been looking for answers all his life. Now it's your turn."
The scrap car is the Yellow Emperor's thunder warrior. There is an ancient word on his finger that cannot be washed away. And at a depth of 10,000 meters under the sea, a door that has been sealed for four thousand years is being slowly pushed open by a headless mechanical demon.
