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

At the southern boundary of Los Angeles City, Kyushu Yucheng was leading a team, rapidly advancing through the wilderness.


In winter, the vegetation in the north was mostly withered, like elderly humans, sparse of hair.


At that moment, Yucheng at the forefront suddenly knelt on one knee, raising his right fist.


In an instant, all the Kyushu members behind him simultaneously knelt on one knee, poised to shoot.


Yucheng had already spotted the traces of the target, who was slowly closing in on them.


He made a tactical hand signal, indicating that the members behind him should flank from both wings, while he himself would push forward through the center.


The guns were about to go off, and the gunfire in the wilderness was incessant like firecrackers on New Year's Eve; yellow, spent shells continuously fell to the ground.


The flanking wings quickly exerted significant pressure on the opponent from both sides.


336, Undercover! (Request for guaranteed monthly votes)