Spiritual Order Master

On the ground floor of the funeral parlor, I used neural probes to pry open the neural graveyards of the dead. Archive the unfinished thoughts of the lonely old man, record the lover's fear of suffocation - until the body bag of the murder case hits the console. The father watched his wife commit suicide, the daughter witnessed her mother killing her father, and the only thing left in the dead wife's soul core was: "It's us..." Logic deadlock? No, it was the A-level fatwa from the General Archives Administration that arrived first! When the special agent in holographic sunglasses used the muzzle of his gun to weld the truth to death, I clutched the blood-stained USB flash drive and threw myself into the data abyss. The memory of the dead is gnawing away, and the blood chain of the red rope is fraying. Before the system command is erased, use the remaining body as the key to hit the last glimmer of hope for survival.