Cyber ​​Sword Immortal Iron Rain

"Perhaps we can find patients who have recently developed brain diseases and gradually narrow the scope..."

He stabilized his thoughts and made the next guess:

"Pan Asia Military Industry is looking for this "Song of Transmigration" to ensure that even if they cannot obtain the complete immortal body, they cannot allow other companies to successfully return the soul of the immortal body to the body?"

If this is the case, it is worth thinking about what these companies looking to compete for the immortal's body are planning to do.

Fang Bailu didn't wait for Anbennola to answer before he raised his bigger question:

"That means... this 'immortal' still has a soul? Or do they want to inject their own 'three souls and seven spirits' into the immortal's body?"

"Just like I want to copy my thoughts and import them into my prosthetic body..."

Anbenola suddenly chuckled:

"Shou Niang told me that there was once an immortal whose three souls and seven spirits were the 'yin spirits' formed by the consciousness of millions of employees of an entire company strangling and merging with each other."

"This has become a company that will never be deregistered, perhaps?"

Chapter 82 A Pursuit (I)

Fang Bailu held on to the handrail in the subway, his eyes fixed on a tooth in the corner of the car.

It was a large tooth that had been hollowed out by decay. Judging from the dark decay marks, it had already eaten into the nerves. It rolled back and forth in the crowded subway car and surprisingly survived under countless feet.

Somehow, the yellow and black teeth reminded Fang Bailu of the sky of Kuala Lumpur that was made of mud and mortar.

He craned his neck and cast his gaze upon the top of the cabin, which was covered in dried blood and peeling paint. If he flew vertically twenty kilometers upward from here, he would be able to pass through the atmosphere and reach space.

Fang Bailu's ears were filled with the buzz of people whispering to each other, but his mind was still filled with the words that Anbennola had told him.

No matter how many new questions her answers brought up, today's conversation did give him a new understanding of the world.

"Visualization machine... maybe I should try visualization as well?"

If he applied to the Microcomputer Taoism Research Association now, he might be able to obtain permission to use the visualization machine: using a visualization machine without a license is a felony, and he, who is used to walking on the edge of laws and regulations, dare not touch it.

But the biggest problem is that Fang Bailu has never had a "spiritual orifice" implanted, so he has no connection with any device connected by neural pipelines.

However, he also had some guesses as to why the Visualizer had imposed such a heavy sentence.

"The voice of the stars...what the hell. But at least we have some more clues in the search for "The Song of Metamorphosis." Fang Bailu shook his head and planned to collect the medical records of all the pharmacies in A Luo Street as soon as he returned to the store: all recent cases of brain injuries may be related to "The Song of Metamorphosis."

As for what kind of existence immortals are, he put this question aside for the time being: this kind of mystery cannot be solved by brainstorming alone.

Fang Bailu squeezed through the crowds around him and got out of the subway - then he staggered at the smell in the Arrow Street subway station.

It was a mixture of foot odor, sweat, the pungent smell of formaldehyde and a faint smell of gunpowder and sulfur - this kind of death metal played to the sense of smell was a unique feature of the Arrow Street subway station.

No matter how many times he had been in and out of this place, Fang Bailu still found it difficult to adapt to this polluted air. Perhaps only by implanting an odor molecule filter in the nasal cavity could he avoid the dizziness caused by this terrible smell.

The subway station is a place full of "popularity" no matter day or night. Especially the subway station on Alor Street - there is a temperature control system open 24 hours a day, and homeless people from the slums often gather here.

The lottery machine in the corner was crowded with people: those who were there to join in the fun, those who were causing trouble, pickpockets, and those who were just trying to kill time.

Fang Bailu also moved towards the crowd - the lottery machine today seemed to be "endgame". He was not unfamiliar with this thing - before he fell asleep, he had seen swindlers setting up chess stalls on the streets.

He stood on tiptoe and looked over the heads: this time the "endgame" used the old-fashioned Pan-Asian chess, which was quite retro. Fang Bailu had seen other "endgame" modes before - competing with AI in first-person shooter games to see how fast they react, or trying to turn the tables in MOBA games, or even some card games near the end of the game.

“This is not a win at all.”

AI’s victory is the result of most of the games. But every time a round of “endgame” is played, the lottery machine is crowded with people: many people watch, but few people go to gamble themselves - most of them are hired by the individual business owners who contracted the lottery machine. This is probably because it is much easier and safer to empathize with the people who are playing the game than to risk losing several days’ living expenses.

Fang Bailu turned his head away and stopped looking at the prizes in the display case next to the window: the implants in the culture tanks that served as prizes lay motionless in the preservation fluid, and were just filler models - anyway, several years had passed, and Fang Bailu had yet to see a real winner who had taken advantage of the lottery machine at the subway station.

He did not deliberately observe his surroundings, but his habitual capture of surrounding information made him feel a sense of disharmony in his limbs.

"Something's wrong."

Fang Bailu looked straight ahead and directly found a relatively less dirty load-bearing pillar to lean against, to avoid being attacked from behind. He rubbed his right eye with his hand, as if he was crying because of the terrible smell in the subway station - but in fact he was looking at everything around him through his fingers:

There were a few idlers sitting crookedly in the computing power booth opposite. Their necks were connected to the computing power booth with cheap and crude neural pipelines, and the traditional Chinese characters "I was born to be useful" condensed by holographic beams hit their faces. Fang Bailu glanced at the skin around their spiritual orifices, which was full of bruises and swollen: the excessive sale of computing power had caused an infection in their brain-computer interfaces.

For the residents of Alor Street, selling computing power in these kiosks of only two or three square meters is one of the few ways to "contribute to the economy and consumption."

Light blue saliva dripped from their mouths, and tears flowed from their rapidly shaking eyelids - most residents of A Luo Street had experience as "material people", but the rewards of the computing power booths were indeed high. Selling computing power for a week was enough to buy electronic bliss.

Fang Bailu is skeptical about the efficiency of the conversion of this computing power, and does not know where the computing power actually flows. But the computing power kiosk is indeed very suitable for killing time: you can sleep and get money: this is the best livelihood on A Luo Street - the real "passive income" in the eyes of many people.

If Fang Bailu hadn't been so incompetent, he would have considered taking a few naps in these computing kiosks and renting out his idle brain to those companies.

"There is indeed a problem..."

Today, there were only a few people working as "talent people" in the computing booth - usually in broad daylight, people would have to queue up here. He looked around a few times and found more strange things: there were security guards standing guard at the Arrow Street subway station today.

In Kuala Lumpur today, every subway station is contracted by a different organization or company - but for the 160-kilometer-long subway bus, there are dozens of organizations, large and small, collecting fees.

A subway ride usually involves two fees: entering the station and exiting the station. But compared with buses and light rail, subways are not expensive: these public transportation also require tolls when passing through different neighborhoods.

The security of each subway station is the responsibility of the contracted organization. Fang Bailu didn't know who was the operator of the A Luo Street subway station now - he vaguely remembered that it was led by "Fu Yisheng" in the bidding before, but after its collapse, there was a "vacuum" in the fee collection. Because he could save a little money, he took the subway more frequently.

Fang Bailu could not help but frown: these security personnel were wearing uniformly distributed equipment, which was the second ominous sign - this was something that only a real "company" that had been registered would do. Fang's Hardware Store had supplied equipment to "Fu Yi Sheng" before, but those gang members purchased it on their own. Each gang member prepared different weapons because of their own economic conditions: only those "Red Sticks" would undergo a body modification operation.

How come in just a few hours, Arrow Street subway station suddenly had an owner?

Fang Bailu pulled the collar of his rubber raincoat upwards to make sure that the lower half of his face was covered. He turned around and walked towards the platform under the cover of the load-bearing column: the strange situation here made him decide to get off at another subway station -

"Hey! The one wearing the raincoat! You didn't scan the code."

A security guard suddenly flashed out from behind another load-bearing column and kept a distance of two meters from Fang Bailu. His index finger was not on the trigger but kept vertical to avoid accidental discharge.

"Trained... or implanted with a fire control chip?"

"I didn't plan to leave the station, I just wanted to change trains."

Fang Bailu raised his hands beside his head to show that he had no intention of violence. He was now basically certain that this abnormal situation was directed at him: the passers-by around him hurriedly walked towards the exit, but the security personnel turned a blind eye, not to mention asking them to pay.

"The policy has changed now. You have to pay to transfer." The security guard waved the semi-automatic rifle in his hand and pointed at the QR code on his chest. "It's a new system. Please understand it."

Fang Bailu looked around: the security guards who had been hiding in the dark were walking towards him. Judging from the angle and position, it would be difficult to quickly escape their fire network in the narrow subway station.

He gently and slowly took out his "mobile phone" from his shirt chest pocket and gestured to the security guard in front of him: "Sorry, I don't understand the situation. I will scan it now-"

"The payment code is in the guard room. Please follow us." The security guard interrupted Fang Bailu and pointed at the QR code on his chest. "Don't scan this. There is a problem with this code. Payment cannot be made."

"Why are you still wearing it on your chest?" Fang Bailu remained calm, but in his heart he was somewhat dissatisfied with this almost blatant coercion. However, he just wanted to turn on the "flight mode": this is not a real smart phone, and it cannot scan the code.

With the existence of the "cell phone", a few security guards could not pose a fatal threat to him - Fang Bailu planned to see what they were up to first.

Chapter 83 A Pursuit (Part )

On the mottled and stained walls of the guard room, there was only one display screen that was spotless and bright. On the screen were several men and women sitting around a round table, enjoying a sumptuous banquet - and next to it was a line of large characters flashing:

"Work hard and you can become a meat eater too!"

Fang Bailu couldn't help but sigh at the pun used here by the company's publicity department: it not only refers to the ability to eat truly expensive and rare "animal biological tissues", but also represents the longing for "class crossing" to become a superior person.

"'Meat-eaters are vulgar'... You are scolding yourself. Who are you trying to fool? These security guards?" He always sneered at such empty promises - Fang Bailu suspected that the current class differences were even more distant than the reproductive isolation of some species.

Judging from the bloodstains that had dried into brown on the floor and the strong spotlights supported by tripods, this guard room probably also served as an interrogation room.

The security guards stood in a neat circle, surrounding Fang Bailu in the center of the guard room. The security guard who stopped Fang Bailu before should be the leader of the group - he had a dark purple armband on his arm, with the word "Captain" and his employee ID scrolling. And his head protection also exposed the lower half of his face: this kind of "human" characteristics showed outwardly, which meant that he had left the lowest level security unit in the administrative sequence of most companies.

Fang Bailu glanced at the positions of the security guards: from the distance, these people maintained a moderate level of vigilance against him - between swordsmen and ordinary refugees. For the heavily transformed swordsmen, it is necessary to pay attention to controlling the distance and maintaining a continuous suppression of the firepower network.

But for the opponent, Bai Lu, everything he saw was within the range of the "sword circle" - apart from his fragile body, his destructive power and lethality were much higher than that of an ordinary swordsman. The Kevlar bulletproof vests worn by these security guards could withstand the kinetic energy of bullets, but in front of the "mobile phone", they were no different from a piece of thin paper.

"It seems that you don't know my background very well... Then why are you coming after me?"

He spread out his hands, looking as innocent as he was bargaining:

"Hey... big brothers, are you guys not going to take care of the outside world? Can I just scan the code and leave?"

All the security personnel that Fang Bailu had observed before gathered in the guard room, as if they wanted to concentrate on dealing with his unique case of "ticket evasion".

Fang Bailu turned his head around, but he couldn't find the "payment code" they mentioned in this dark and cramped guard room. No matter when this group of new security personnel "occupied" the Arrow Street subway station, they certainly didn't spend the time to repair this shabby guard room.

Judging from the smell in this room, the previous contractors had probably had a special liking for various drugs that could bring pleasure.

The "captain" ignored Fang Bailu's questioning and just touched the handle of his rifle again, using the black muzzle to issue a silent threat. His single-soldier eyepiece with three optical tubes flickered, as if confirming Fang Bailu's appearance:

"Put your hands up. Let me do a routine check first."

……

……

"Two 'Night Pearl' directional radiation flash bombs, a 'Command and Prohibition' police riot sandbag gun and three rounds of ammunition, a 'Fish Gut' general-purpose bayonet, two tubes of adrenaline mixture, an unlicensed tablet computer..."

The security captain counted the various weapons he had taken from Fang Bailu and shook his head:

"Why do you carry so many violent tools? And you are the legal representative of Fang's Hardware Store, right?"

"So you're here for my hardware store?"

Fang Bailu kept his hands raised above his head, bent his wrist and pointed at the small objects piled on the table:

"As the owner of a hardware store, it's not surprising that I carry all these things with me, right? According to the Regulations on Goods Transportation by Individual Business Owners promulgated by the Microcomputer Taoism Research Association, I can even carry two more automatic firearms when I take public transportation. Also, how did you know that I'm the legal representative of 'Fang's Hardware Store'..."

The security captain didn't respond to Fang Bailu's question at all. He put the "cell phone" into his pocket, then took out a small metal pagoda from his chest pocket and placed it on the table.

Fang Bailu recognized what it was - "Communication jammer? He wants to temporarily disable the surveillance system here... Could it be?"

The security captain suddenly picked up the subsonic sandbag gun - he raised his voice, with panic and panic in his voice; "What are you doing? Put the gun down! If you attack us, 'Qingyun Temple' Qiuzhen Co., Ltd. will exercise unlimited rights of claim and self-defense against you!"

"really……"

Fang Bailu looked at the security captain's sudden monologue and thought about the name he mentioned:

"Qingyun Temple? This seems to be a subsidiary of the Microcomputer Taoism Research Association..."

boom!

The security captain fired his sandbag gun at the wall - the sandbag bullets filled with metal particles were deeply embedded in the cement. Then he threw the sandbag gun away and aimed the automatic rifle hanging on his body at Fang Bailu:

“While maintaining normal business at Arrow Street subway station, we encountered violent interference with our business activities – we will pursue economic losses after killing the suspect.”

"Are you directing and acting out a play? I attacked you, and you had no choice but to fight back in self-defense - isn't this a bit too old-fashioned..."

Fang Bailu shook his head: No matter who is targeting me, it seems that they are going to tear each other apart. Although such blatant frame-ups are not uncommon, they are usually targeted at small self-employed individuals without backers. My own Fang's Hardware Store is now a Taoist property, and it is not a "subsidiary" of unknown origin that can be the victim of such trickery and robbery - the research association also has internal regulations to prevent mutual infighting.

These people were either too stupid, or they were planning to take action against him despite the possible pressure from the research institute. Fang Bailu chose to believe the latter:

"You mean if there's no one involved... I don't have to worry about you suing me?"

Fang Bailu put down his raised hands: Now that he had roughly determined who his enemy was, he no longer had to act with them.

The security captain pursed his lips and smiled grimly:

"It's not targeting you, just do your job—ugh!"

Click, click, click...

The first sound that was heard in the small guard room was the crisp sound of liquid dripping on the ground - this sound came from the security captain's mouth.

The "cell phone" flew out of the chest pocket of his bulletproof vest and then stabbed directly into his mouth: after a rotation, a circular groove with a diameter of ten centimeters appeared on the brain stem of the security captain, blocking the rest of his words back into his throat. Saliva, blood and brain matter slid down the mirror-like surface of the phone, like a gurgling, red and white spring. Da Da Da! The broken teeth that were broken by the rotation of the "cell phone" also fell down.

No matter what special skills the security captain possessed, he could no longer use them after his medulla oblongata was cut off.

Fang Bailu grabbed the security captain's shoulders and leaned back, letting the corpse "cover" himself like a heavy blanket - Fang Bailu was still a flesh and blood body after all, so he had to use this dead man in a bulletproof vest to block possible stray bullets for himself.

He pulled the body up with difficulty, covering the head and face more securely - the body was already splashed with all kinds of dirty water, so he didn't mind getting even dirtier.

Fang Bailu cleared his throat and spoke as the security guards around him cocked the bolts and opened the safety:

"Fly."

call!call!call!

Along with the sharp screams of the air being torn apart, for a moment it seemed as if there was a huge electric fan stirring in the guard room - the groaning sounds of the security guards' tracheas being blocked by blood bubbles, the sound of gunshots from randomly pulling the trigger, and the muffled sound of metal and flesh being cut off all rang out together.

The security guards were like some kind of human-shaped capsules that were unscrewed. Blood spurted out from the cross-sections of their waists and abdomens, and their separated upper and lower bodies were blown into the air by the impact of the "cell phone".

Snapped!

A severed arm, still tightly grasping a pistol, fell beside Fang Bailu's face: the bolt and the elbow had been cut off, but the index finger was still twitching like a conditioned reflex, constantly pulling the trigger.

Although Fang Bailu cannot control the "mobile phone" precisely yet, it does not mean that he cannot unleash its terrifying destructive power: Fang Bailu makes the "mobile phone" fly at full speed in a circle at a height of 1.5 meters above the ground - the route is like the shape of a mosquito coil, enough to destroy any flesh and blood body that exceeds this height.

Between breaths, the only sounds in the guard room were the dripping sound of sticky liquid and the faint noise coming from outside. Fang Bailu pushed away the heavy body pressing on him and sat up: