The Speaking Pork Trotter

In the neon of blue and purple, under the thick steel sky, at the forefront of this surge of data, lies the world post-tech revolution.
It's also the dividing line between reality and illusion.
Steel and flesh, past and future.
In this place, the world outside and inside coexist. Everything in front of us feels like a wall of time within reach.
The darkness is slowly creeping in.
But hey, my friend, you gotta know, we can't just counter darkness with softness.
Gotta use fire.

Naming Technique of the Night

Lordbluefire

The pain and fury in Wang Bingxu's heart ignited, and he darted forward like a cheetah, kicking toward Qing Chen's head, intent on embedding it into the wall.


Qing Chen swung the gun around, trying to keep up with Wang Bingxu's shifting form, but found that the other was far too fast!


A voice softly said, "Had a couple too many cups of tea, almost arrived too late."


Time inside the Jinmao Tower, at that moment, seemed... no, it truly slowed down.


In the stairwell, a figure wearing a duckbill cap ascended the steps leisurely.


The figure's steps upstairs were leisurely, but his arrival was swift.


Wang Bingxu's kick, like a movie frame slowing down frame by frame, slowly approached Qing Chen's head.


And that figure with the duckbill cap, accompanied by a slight cough, walked past Wang Bingxu.


His fingers lightly brushed across Wang Bingxu's neck, as light and elegant as a dragonfly touching water.


324, Snap of the fingers, and the disappearing floor_3