Lord of the Proletariat

He is called Li Banfeng, as in the peak of a mountain, not the feng of madness. The doctor said he is not crazy.

In order to save a friend’s life, he went to Platform 96, boarded the 1160 Steam Train, and arrived in Pulu State, a place that still remains in the steam age.

He met a beloved confidante inside an old record player, an incomparable beauty inside a monthly pin-up calendar, a dancing beauty inside an old standing clock, and a worldly master inside a wine gourd.

Here there are food cultivators who grow stronger the more they eat, cigarette cultivators who grow stronger the more they smoke, martial cultivators who grow fiercer the more they kill, and wine cultivators who grow crazier the more they drink.

Here there are travel cultivators who want to go everywhere, and homebody cultivators who do not want to go anywhere at all.

Among the countless sects under heaven, who can stand above the rest?

Among the myriad cultivators of Pulu, who is the unrivaled champion?

Banfeng put on a suit, wore a top hat, picked up a feather duster, and asked seriously: tell me, who is the ruler of Pulu?