The sound was bizarre. It wasn't the deep, melodious chanting of a traditional temple, but rather… a synthetic, electronic texture. Its ethereal quality was laced with a mechanical coldness, yet strangely, it wasn't off-putting.
Wu Liangchen paused and looked toward the sound.
Deep within the ruins, he saw a few crooked metal struts, tattered canvas, and plastic sheets cobbled together into a crude yet distinctly cyberpunk… temple?
A few exposed energy conduits snaked around the "temple's" frame like blood vessels, emitting a faint blue glow.
A plaque made from a repurposed screen hung at the entrance. A few distorted runes flickered across it, their language indecipherable.
What struck him as even stranger were the figures he saw approaching the entrance. They entered the temple with the quiet reverence of pilgrims.
They were the local poor.
Curiosity piqued, Wu Liangchen masked his presence and slipped into the shadows, peering intently.
