Broken Thread

"The gods treat us like bugs, I treat the gods like data." On this day, the world begins to count down. Some people kneel in the acid rain and pray for salvation, while others escape eternity in illusory brain-computer dreams. Su Zhe chose to stand up from the operating table. His left eye is five thousand years of heavy human history; his right hand is a scarlet light blade that tears apart the gods. Lock up emotion and abandon pity. Stepping on the ashes of comrades-in-arms and stepping on the flesh and blood of compatriots, just to deduce the "optimal solution" of that glimmer of hope. When the nine strings sound, the matrix restarts, The gods will find that the man with the broken thread is already standing in front of them. ——In this logical game called survival, humans no longer pray for miracles.