Library

The apocalypse is coming, but I am eating hot pot in the safe house. Three months before the rebirth and disaster, I poured all my wealth into this iron bastard shell - titanium alloy walls, the same door as the bank vault, and enough supplies to last me three lifetimes. The neighbor cried outside the door: "Lin Du, can you bear to see us die?" I held the beef roll in my mouth and turned on the surveillance camera: "Why didn't you realize this when you broke into my garage to steal oil last month?" As the corpses approached, the military representative pointed a gun at my head: "Requisition the safe house, this is an order." I smiled and opened the door behind me that shouldn't exist. The neon lights of cyberpunk, the flying swords of the immortal world, and the nuclear batteries of the wasteland-representatives of the three worlds raised their heads at the same time. "Introducing," I patted the representative on the shoulder, "my new customers." Later, under the blood moon, the Corpse King led millions of mutants to the city. I took out a box of expired canned herrings and pressed confirm on the cross-border transaction interface. [The transaction is successful: you obtain the right to use the "Planetary Railgun" × 1] When the annihilation beam washed the earth, all the survivors looked up at the starship across the sky. I took a sip of cold coffee in the control room and broadcast to all channels: "Now, who wants to talk to me about ethics and sharing?"