Can a person die and live, and then live and die again?
Li Pan stared at the cannon-platform, the blood-infant, and little Spider-Type.18, falling silent.
Human and ghost; souls and spirits; xi and yi…
And zhān…
He lifted his gaze through the apartment window to the black sky.
Night without light—clouds upon clouds. Above the heavy blanket, the rainbow glow of light pollution from the city reflected upward, the whole thing like a curtain projecting ads. Not a trace of moon.
Demon-light cavorted; heaven and earth felt especially grim. The pressure was so low it was hard to breathe. For an instant, Li Pan felt as if the whole world had been nailed into its coffin lid.
Were we all just ghosts trapped in this nightmare, dying and reviving over and over…
He exhaled, shook his head.
He'd seen enough ghostly lore in novels and games, but there were too many things he couldn't parse—and he was being hunted. This wasn't the time to pepper "little brother" with questions. Research later.
Besides, he knew this cursed weather meant acid rain was about to start.
Rain is good.
A downpour can wash a city's filth away.
But in Night City, the rain itself is top-tier filth.
For growth, profit, and war, Earth 0791's extreme industrialization had long burst its bounds. The world was thoroughly polluted—air, rivers, and soil choked with heavy-metal particles, radioactive dust, lab-leaked pathogens. The rain was so filthy that a single acid deluge could massively interfere with electronics and pipeline networks—disrupt even security-system surveillance. Believe it.
Forget the NCPA—most police/civilian drones couldn't operate in it at all. Even military units needed corrosion-proof shells.
And in a wind-lashed cloudburst like this, anyone sane avoided the streets. One mouthful could mean infection, chemical burns, skin cancer. You paying for that treatment?
So the human question these days isn't whether we can control weather, reshape nature, or repair the environment—
—it's who pays for it.
In theory, every corp and neighborhood pays for trash disposal and environmental remediation, but the big bill belongs to the Earth Property Management company designated by the Committee.
Takamagahara went bankrupt, surrendered, and gave up—no way they're paying. The Ye Group was still in planning and construction—nowhere near environmental acceptance, hadn't even renewed or transferred fees.
So for years, Earth 0791 had been without a property manager. Private holdings were run by private firms. Pollution only worsened.
Oddly enough, that made things easier for Li Pan.
A massive acid rain wasn't just nuclear waste from heaven—lethal to normal people—it also scrambled magnetic conditions. Not just electronics; long-range sniping, scans, and locks all weakened. Optical camouflage glitched.
So in Night City, you often saw crowds in rain capes and rubber boots, packed like rats under subway eaves and overpasses.
Some idiot spacers strutted around with molecular shields, dancing naked in the highway rain, shooting shorts—bone-dry in a three-foot bubble. But molecular isolators cost power and maintenance.
Li Pan had once watched a spacer get high and sleep in a deluge. After an hour, the shield died; he shorted out in the runoff, vomited and had dysentery, and a med team hauled him off.
In other words, AVNDS—being a kind of molecular shield—would auto-activate against chemical contamination in this weather, reducing defensive capacity and exposing position. Easier to deal with than before.
By now, Spider-Type.18 had jacked the local network port.
"Boss, this building's empty—cleared out for a temporary sniper point and resupply. Perimeter has auto-turrets and mines. The subnet's got basic ICE. We can rest here a bit."
"Good. Eighteen, got through to the Company? What's our status?"
He decided not to move yet. He casually sliced the cannon-man's head like a watermelon—seven or eight pieces—and plated a bit for each dead homeowner at the table as an offering.
Then he rummaged the place, found some raincoats to change into, raided the fridge for junk food to refill calories, and planned to dash out with the Grail when the rain really hammered down.
Spider-Type.18: "No cloud link; I'm using local wired net. Public broadcast channels are cut. Our ICE is under hacker attack. I think the other Eighteens are being harried by e-ghosts.
This unit is just a data-storage module, not an EW ghost-chassis. If I open a stealth link, we risk eavesdropping, intrusion, and location exposure. Do we gamble it?"
Li Pan rubbed his brow. "Forget it. Back up the chips we pulled from those spacers. No risks. What's the Grail War status outside?"
Spider-Type.18: "Stream's temporarily down. We probably shook pursuit… whoa, Boss! The dark-web bounty on the Grail just spiked to one hundred and fifty billion! The whole city's hunting you!"
"Oh? One-fifty billion? Where do I claim it if I turn myself—"
Before he finished, his whole body felt light. Pain and swelling vanished. His strength refilled. His pocket grew heavier—his fingers found a Silver Key.
A rollback. The Company couldn't reach him and followed plan—save-state assist. The key was likely the payout for bagging Dr. Ohsumi earlier.
He looked at the blood-infant crawling up and down his coat.
"What are you doing now?"
Spider-Type.18: "This terminal's underpowered. Let me fetch a better body to support you, Boss."
Li Pan: "Not asking you."
Spider-Type glanced at the corpses. "…Boss, you really need to watch your health. Don't shoot up that many stims."
"…," said Li Pan.
The blood-infant finished as well: on the inside of the rain cape and outside the SBS under-suit, it had painted two layers of sigils.
On the cape—odd bloody prints like handmarks and beast claws. On the suit—skewed, slanted eyes.
Eighteen would call them hallucinations of a mental patient.
The blood-infant clapped its hands.
"Once you know what realm they're in, you know how to handle them.
Outside, I set sixty-four Soul-Chasing Hands of Rebirth. Any coward sneaking shots from the dark—one pluck and his soul flies apart.
Inside, I cast a Grand Rite of Soul-Draw and Ghost-Subjugation. Any outer-world zhān peeping at you with spirit-sight will fall into my net.
Enter my array, lose soul and spirit—never reincarnate.
With this implement guarding you, even if I'm not by your side, you'll be fine."
"Wow," said Li Pan. "Soul flies apart, never reincarnate—huh… Little brother, not that I don't trust you, but I heard grade tools need decades of work to refine. You whipped this up on the spot—sure it's that strong? Not bragging?"
The blood-infant puffed up:
"Hey! Just petty exorcism—why would I waste real treasures? Against things not even worthy of 'ghoul,' I don't need to lift a finger.
I could carve you a god-icon to tuck in your coat and it would cow fiends from a mile off! It's just that I can't find good clay here!"
Li Pan nodded. "Oh—so you don't need to step in. What, you ditching me to go cultivate? What happened to 'live and die together, guard my Dharma,' huh?"
The infant drooped.
"No, Big Brother. You can handle this—you're not in mortal danger.
Also, I left in a rush. I've still got lamb stewing in the pot. If I don't get back, it'll overcook…"
Li Pan straightened.
"Damn! And you didn't say! Go—be quick!"
"Rest easy! I'll be right back!"
The infant streaked away as a red light.
Li Pan felt a pang. When would he fly like that—save on cars…
Ding-dong.
Doorbell.
He drew Catherine's Sword and set his stance.
Spider-Type.18 skittered to open up.
"It's fine! I used the homeowner's account—delivery for signature."
"This is not the time for parcels!"
He peered—sure enough, an all-terrain delivery bot.
Older districts had dedicated delivery lifts and beltways—packages rode conveyors from factory to door. Mechanical—reliable—but hackable: grenades or anthrax camoed as parcels. Some risk, being phased out.
A Grail War with a 150-billion bounty and they're ordering takeout… were they insane…
"So what is it?"
He tore into the box.
Spider-Type explained:
"BEEP-BEEP-BEEP ROBOT."
"What!?"
"Relax—it's a disguise. Black-market hardware bought with black gold!"
He opened it. "The hell—this is exactly that thing!"
But Spider-Type had already mounted up—slipping into the robot's head, activating, unlocking, migrating data—then whirr—stood up.
Honestly, not that weird. Without a skin suit, it was a basic ROBOT—a standard humanoid frame.
Most service work in alleys and nightclubs used these cheap service bots. Humans can't pull endless shifts; bots don't sleep, age, or die. Otherwise how could a pricey city like Night City keep wages so low?
But for unemployment, environmental, patent, hacker, and SEC-AI-ban reasons, robotics was tightly regulated. On 0791, bots did heavy labor and service. Anything more technical required a human with smart-assist chips.
Still, drones and robots are modular and handy nowadays.
A home 3D printer could DIY modules; cottage shops made silicone skins; cracked OSes loaded in; behavior logic reset; scripts and "roles" home-brewed or pulled from open-source libraries.
More packages arrived—black-market bits labeled as toys.
Trashy world or not, 0791 had cheap electronics and parts. It was easy to source Level-4 military components in bulk.
With time to kill, Li Pan helped Eighteen assemble—turning a humanoid module into a horse.
Yes, a horse—its shell looked like a kiddie park ride: a plushy foal with little white wings.
Eighteen added design tweaks—sawing open the back, mounting a robot upper body onto the horse. A centaur, a chimera.
They even mounted a BEEP on the forehead.
Staring at the Frankensteed, Li Pan doubted his craftsmanship.
"…I didn't assemble this wrong, did I? And that thing is a BEEP, right? Sure it goes on the forehead?"
Pony-18 bounced twice—floorboards creaked.
"Oh yeah! I've got my own pony now! Let's go, Boss—let's punch out!"
"Punch out?"
Before he could object, Pony-18 kicked the window open.
Spotlights from the opposite building stabbed Li Pan's eyes.
"He's across the way!"
"Target found!"
"The Grail is on him!"
"Open fire!"
BOOM!!
The building across detonated—brick, steel, and glass hailed down, gale-force winds whipping debris; thunder of blasts and steel shrieks filled his ears. An apartment tower rose into the air—smoke and flame lit the block.
Li Pan: "What the hell!?"
Pony-18: "We're fine! That was a trap those spacers set. The pursuers took a fake address. Let's go!"
Half the city heard that. No time to wait for little brother—Li Pan vaulted onto Pony-18.
The centaur shrieked metallically and sprinted off the balcony, charging straight up the building, hooves drumming!
Hot wind and icy rain lashed Li Pan's face.
Pursuers swarmed—dense drone flocks like migrating birds or bats pouring in, a black cloud.
Bullets, shells, and rockets stitched fire-lines at them. The BEEP on Pony-18's head flashed—then blasted an EMP wave!
Under the strobing pulses, guided munitions and smart drones veered like headless flies, crashing and blooming into fireballs behind them!
Li Pan: "EMP? ECM? Couldn't you pick another look!?"
Pony-18: "Found it on the dark web! Beggars can't be choosers! If the engineer hadn't been drunk, it wouldn't look like this! Where else do you get Level-6 custom kit for ten million!"
Li Pan: "Ten million for this eyesore!? Wait—Eighteen—where'd you get the money? You didn't ask me for approval. Did you buy this with your own funds?"
Pony-18: "Yep! I figured it out! You were right! Day-trading is hopeless! Better to buy what I like and be happy!"
Li Pan: "You like BEEPs??"
Pony-18: "Who likes that! It was a lucky snipe! When you've got time, help me sand off the pattern—or 3D-print a new shell—as long as function's fine!"
…Fair.
Pony-18: "And that's not all! Look!"
Its eyes flared; a weird light-film cloaked them. In the drizzle, Li Pan's hands turned faintly transparent.
"You've got optical stealth too? That's Level-5 EM hardening—no, wait, you're casually firing Level-6 BEEPs? Your power and battery modules aren't ordinary either! This is all controlled hardware. Normal shops only do custom, with reservations. How did you get this so fast? You weren't scammed, were you?"
Pony-18 hesitated.
"Boss… these were smuggled in by those 007 teams earlier. I set up the secret depots. I… kept a portion. That's okay… right?"
"So that's it. Doesn't matter. Skimming the dead is human nature."
Pony-18 sniffled. "Boss, you're the best!"
Li Pan pondered, shook his head, and suddenly vaulted off the pony.
It could skim along metal walls and briefly "fly," but it was still a toy skin.
Eighteen wanted to help, but in the fight to come, dragging it along was a burden. He ad-libbed:
"Eighteen, do me a favor—while the rain's still light, pick up Nana, then head to Panlong Factory. Tell Orange to take people and evacuate to orbit."
Pony-18: "Huh? You're not coming?"
Li Pan shook his head. "I can't vanish. They're locked on me. You go! I'll contact you!"
"Be careful, Boss!"
Pony-18 flew off.
Li Pan wiped cold sweat. Honestly, he didn't want to be seen riding that thing…
He donned a gas mask, pulled up his hood, and bounded across serried high-rises, landing on an empty elevated expressway.
Acid rain hammered down—bucket-big drops stank of metal and bile, sluicing off the sides. The roadway was black-yellow mud and dust.
Li Pan watched the waterfall sheet and the city shimmering beyond. He raised the Grail high and saluted the sky.
Then he let go. The gilded cup clanged to the pavement at his feet; droplets splashed from its lip.
"Which of you wants to go first?"
KRACK-BOOM!
Lightning and thunder.
Four Company dogs in formal suits stood before him—sunglasses on, umbrellas up—blocking four lanes.
Around them, an unseen pressure wall forced the rain aside.
No—cut it.
Not a single drop struck their umbrellas.
Li Pan narrowed his eyes and lifted his sword, pointing.
"Or all at once."
In the next instant, a bloody handprint flared on his raincoat—then shot into the downpour as red light.
And in the flick of his pupil—
A flash of cold light—
A sword
—came slashing from the far side.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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