Neo-Langya. Sector 9 (The Undercity). It was raining again. The rain here wasn't water; it was a dilute mix of coolant fluid and acid runoff from the Upper City. It hissed as it hit the pavement. Lin Jin walked through the neon-drenched alleyways. He wore his trench coat to hide his lack of cybernetics. Behind him, Butcher Wang and Snake Woman looked around with unease. "Boss," The Thief (Rat) whispered, fiddling with a stolen datapad. "I tried to pick a pocket. No wallets. Everyone pays with chips embedded in their wrists. I can't steal digital money." "And the gold?" Lin Jin asked. "Worthless," Snake Woman pointed to a holographic sign for a hardware store. "Gold is used for wiring here. A kilo of gold buys a sandwich. The real currency is Energy and Data." Lin Jin nodded. "So we need something that generates energy." He stopped in front of a flickering sign: [DOC LEVI’S CHOP SHOP - IMPLANTS / REPAIRS / PAWN] The door was reinforced ste

Sector 9. The Trash Heap. The Iron Mule looked hideous. Originally a majestic vessel plated with Celestial Gold, it was now covered in welded scrap metal, severed cyborg limbs, and leaking hydraulic pipes. "It looks like a garbage truck," Butcher Wang complained, welding a sensor array from a dead Black Dragon soldier onto the hull. "It's camouflage," Snake Woman hissed, calibrating the signal jammer. "This junk emits a localized 'Cyber-Noise'. It hides the Spirit Qi signature of the Void Core. To their sensors, we will look like a malfunctioning cargo drone." Lin Jin walked up the ramp. He dusted off his hands. "Is it ready?" "The camouflage will hold for about thirty seconds once we hit the scanning grid," Gu Panyue reported from the cockpit. "After that, the automated turrets will vaporize us." "Thirty seconds is plenty," Lin Jin sat in the captain's chair. He looked at the holographic map.

The Iron Mule. Flight Deck. Lin Jin sat in the pilot’s chair, holding the black crystal Admin Key. "Boss," Snake Woman looked worried, her tail twitching. "You can't just 'plug in'. You don't have a neural port. You don't have a cyber-deck. This key is designed for a quantum computer, not a human brain." "Code is just language," Lin Jin said, turning the key over in his fingers. "Data is just memory. The Internet... is just a collective consciousness." He looked at Gu Panyue. "In our world, we call a place made entirely of non-physical thought the Spirit Realm." "Here, they call it Cyberspace." "It's the same thing." Lin Jin placed the Admin Key on his forehead. He didn't look for a USB port. He looked for a spiritual resonance. "Snake, monitor my vitals. If I flatline... well, don't unplug me. I'm just fighting." He closed his eyes. Ashbone Secret Art: Soul Projection.

Neo-Langya. The Streets. The City was burning. With The Oracle gone, the "Perfect Order" collapsed instantly. The police drones hovered aimlessly, their command loops severed. The banking servers froze, wiping out trillions of credits of debt—and savings. In Sector 9, the gangs rioted. In Sector 1, the executives panicked as their smart-homes locked them out. "It's anarchy!" CEO Kaelen shouted, looking out the broken window of the 100th floor. "Without the Oracle's algorithms, the supply chains will fail within hours! The city will eat itself!" Lin Jin sat on the only remaining chair in the office. He was watching the chaos on a wall of screens. "Chaos is good," Lin Jin said calmly. "Chaos forces evolution." He tapped the air. His new Technomancy interface responded instantly. "Let's say hello." The Broadcast. ZZZZZT. Every screen in the city—from the massive billboards in the Upper City to the cracked datapads in the slums—flickered. The image of the "Skull Wreathed in Fl

Neo-Langya. Day 90 of the Reformation. Two months had passed. The city of Neo-Langya was unrecognizable. The smog was gone. In its place, the air hummed with a low-frequency static—the sound of High-Density Spirit Qi flowing through copper veins embedded in the streets. The skyscrapers didn't just hold people anymore; they held charge. Every window was a capacitor. Every road was a circuit. On the command deck of the Spire, Kaelen stared at the deep-space radar. His hands, now steady and holding a tablet, turned white. "Sir," Kaelen’s voice was calm, the calm of a man who has accepted his fate. "Gravitational anomaly detected at the edge of the system." "It's not a ship. It's a moon." Lin Jin stood on the very tip of the Spire's antenna, the wind whipping his trench coat. He didn't look at the radar. He looked at the sun. "Here they come," Lin Jin whispered. The Arrival. The sun went