Make a Difference: the Invasion of Word Spirits

The brushstrokes fall off the paper, and the calligraphy is perfect. When Lin Mo was blocked by three official calligraphy monsters in the ancient city alley, they pointed at the calligraphy homework in his schoolbag and said, "Your handwriting is wrong." The young man's answer was the word "broken", which caused the ink to explode and broken bricks to fly. Not magic, not super powers. He uses the tip of his pen as a blade and his breath as a guide. When he writes the word "ji", his body will be like electricity, when he writes the word "solid", there will be barriers, and when he writes the word "avoid", he will evaporate from the surveillance network. But the price is engraved on the back of the hand - every time the forbidden power is used, a gray and black mark appears on the skin. The fighting doesn't stop in the streets. Underground in the abandoned data center, three thousand typos are growing wildly out from the gray and white covering of the server cemetery, the heads and tails of silkworms are twisted into hungry roots, and the entire floor is filled with the smell of living ink. Li Bai's character spirit condensed the last poetic heart into a drop of ink and passed it into Lin Mo's right arm; thirty years ago, his grandfather used a stroke that was one millimeter off, leaving a gap in the character wall that only blood can fill. The moment when the paper is dropped, it is not a confrontation of moves - it is a shake, a name that has been written off and stands up again from the ashes of the archives. When the Master of Word Spirits opened his eyes from the abyss of typos, Lin Mo clenched the old pen with the word "Mo" engraved on it. Civilization is written—this time, by him.