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

With a snap, all the lights in the room turned on. Zhang Qinghuan was in the living room of a dilapidated apartment building, with thick curtains drawn across the windows.


His brothers, however, were still lying unconscious not far away, none of them dead.


Zhang Qinghuan's mouth slowly opened as he looked at the person across from him.


"Hmm, I've interrogated your little brother. You really didn't spill anything about Qing Chen Inspector. At least you kept your mouth shut," Luo Wanya laughed. "What I fear most is encountering a worthless person with no strengths at all. After all, I have to use the guise of this gang to do things for our boss."


Zhang Qinghuan was a bit dazed. He clearly heard the sound of throats being slashed, knives stabbing into bodies, and gasping breaths, yet none of his brothers were dead.


At this moment, not far away, a silver family member's mouth moved slightly, simulating those sounds from earlier.


556, Little Boy