Eighteen Years Washing Mechs: The God-Tier Cipher Beneath My Ribs

For eighteen years, Lin Qi shoveled corrosive waste at a rust-eaten star harbor. No one ever bothered to remember his name—to everyone, he was simply "the mech washer." Then the decree came down: chip implantation was now mandatory, and anyone who had not been implanted by tomorrow would be eliminated on the spot. As the deadline closed in, Lin Qi's hand drifted to the data chip his father had embedded beneath his ribs with his dying breath—the sole biological key to "Divine Remains," an SSS-class sealed entity. In that instant, a cockpit hissed open and drew him inside. Beneath the skin of his right arm, circuit patterns ignited, glowing like veins of molten lava. This "man-eating" mech, outlawed and sealed away by military command, had been waiting eighteen years for him. But the machine exacts a toll with every activation: one year of Lin Qi's own lifespan.