The Eight Diagrams of the Twelve Beasts Without Inscriptions

At the age of seven, nameplates appeared on everyone's wrists. Zodiac sign, endowment, and destiny are stamped on your skin. From now on, whether you are a dragon or a rat, whether you are noble or cheap, is decided in one stroke. The wrist of silence is empty. People without nameplates are not worthy of being called "people" in the lower realm. They call him 094127, they call him "that thing", they call him anything, just not his name. He spent three years picking up bones of dead people in scrapyards, digging for food in garbage dumps with those with defective nameplates, and living worse than a cockroach. Until he dug out a piece of brown paper from the pile of scraps. The paper says: You can steal. Steal other people's zodiac signs, steal other people's talents, steal other people's fate fragments. Twelve pigs, twelve oxen, twelve tigers... Collect the twelve zodiac signs and you can write a nameplate for yourself. What's the cost? The brown paper didn't say. But every time it steals, it carves another line on Shen Mo's wrist, fills one more person's screams into his nightmare, and puts another stone in his stomach. The first prey is the fat man in the cafeteria, "Gluttony". After he lost his talent, he broke his leg and his family was ruined half a year later. The second prey is the silent weirdo, "Flea Cripple". He jumped off the roof and said, "I thought I could still jump." Silence turned over the kraft paper, and the endings of these people were densely written on the back. Like a cemetery, every word is a tombstone. He knew what he was becoming. But he couldn't stop. A person who has nothing will be willing to risk his life if you give him a taste of "having".