Chapter 1300: NO．204：Just pretend not to hear it for now

NO．204：Just pretend not to hear it for now.

When technology is sufficiently advanced, when source energy is sufficiently profound, when many past 'impossibilities' are teetering on the brink, the so-called 'talent' has likewise been forced to undergo a reform.

Bloodline purification, genetic adjustment—although large-scale events that stress relative fairness often impose restrictions on this, the 'life' competition does not have such a strict organizer.

You simply cannot determine how many Ascendants and Adjusters you might meet when you go out to buy a pack of cigarettes, nor can you be sure how many artificial geniuses you have brushed past.

You only know that you have irresponsible biological parents.

When they drew cards, they usually didn't use a dummy card, and the you that was born didn't show any notable learning talent, source energy talent, or martial arts talent.

This made you look very awkward, and it also comforted those around you, saying you could still make adjustments later through effort, as long as you saved enough money.

Saving enough money can even alter one's fate, let alone mere talent? In this age full of possibility, the height that wealth can reach is already infinitely close to true omnipotence, but reaching that point is likewise an astronomical figure, forcing many to keep even their dreams modest.

Aomo Lindun does not wish to have such a dream.

Because he does not feel embarrassed.

Although he indeed lives in repression, the fact that he has lived among geniuses since childhood is not the reason he feels repressed.

Everyone in this era has their own repression; geniuses have their own torment, the wealthy have their own pains, everyone has their own prison, which will eventually be found, so the wise him does not rush to step into higher realms to gaze upon higher vistas.

He forever believes that gazing and looking down are humanity's deepest, most evil desire, whereby demons subjugate humans, and trainers likewise use it to whip horse girls, teaching people to endlessly pursue broader, forward scenery, so as to behold all splendor.

This path has no end; competitive spirit is the best aid, it helps you climb higher and also makes you ever closer to the abyss, not knowing when you will already have stopped looking back at yourself.

Inside the Triple Crown horse girl's body, there always resides a ghost—although he has not yet experienced it personally, Aomo can already understand this from another realm, just as he sees those few girls burst from the gate.

"Gate exit successful! Mancheng Chazuo, Ailisuzhi, Ocean Ship slightly delayed! But the gap is not large!"

"The leader is Meipu Bopang! The leader is Meipu Bopang! Meipu Bopang occupied the front with a very standard ten-step gate exit! Is she still going to make a big escape? In this race, she is the sole escapee; the vanguard is contested by Jizhao, Senlinbaoxue, and Aimu Zhiji!!"

"At the same time, Ailisuzhi caught up! She overtook Mancheng Chazuo and Hongyuan Yinghua's steps and caught up!"

Ferocious and grim, the usual calm and gentleness showed no trace; the nasty smile that first showed signs ten days ago was released in an especially unrestrained manner, and not only Ailisuzhi—on this 18-person racecourse, many are girls who, when they run, do not look like good people, fully displaying the alienation of desire toward people.

Clearly just a rematch debut race, at most a match against a few teammates they interact with daily, yet it can make them burst forth with potential as if running the final race of their lives.

Somewhat out of place, but Aomo recalled certain bits where, when matched with brothers, he would give his all.

At this moment, the one running in first, still with a mechanical calm demeanor, Meipu Bopang instead seemed exceptionally composed, reassuring, able to pull Aomo out of that downward spiral of thought.

But, should we really be reassured?

Or rather, can we truly be reassured?

The monster card did not react, but that sharp, creaking sound was mixed with the howls, roars, and rumblings coming from all directions, extremely clear, even able to drown out the audience's shouts, fully displaying the non-human and monstrous.

These are the sounds of talent, and also the place where Aomo Lindun's talent ultimately stands out.

All along, his martial arts, source energy, and learning talents have been quite intuitively average and unremarkable.

Gentle teachers are willing to give him a middling evaluation, frivolous classmates will call him mediocre, nasty classmates will call him a cancer, and he has long accepted this fact.

Given his early exposure to part-time and temporary work, the fields he has come into contact with are always far more than those of his classmates in school.

Despite such a varied contact surface, he still could not show any advantage or distinction, enough for him to conclude that there is nothing in his domain that can be called talent.

But in the past few months, especially recently…… as he gradually got opportunities and occasionally could spare time to communicate with a few monster controllers, especially in his exchanges with Chen, he gradually began to have to admit that he is not entirely a late-stage Silver.

He ultimately possesses a talent worth singling out, appearing as rare as one in ten thousand, or even one in a million.

【Monster Controller】

This talent, which ought to have been opened by Qian, or even said to be bestowed, in his hand is substantially not the same as Gui She, badger, or ten chariots.

This is a fact he only realizes after communicating with everyone and then again with Chen.

Undoubtedly, there are also differences among monster controllers.

Some monster controllers can constantly sense monsters, converse with them, and live like a little beauty of Mosula.

Some monster controllers just stay there, destroying cities during their commute, and can even be blown apart by the aftershocks of monster explosions, unable to hear any monster sound at all.

And if you ask whether the former counts as a benefit of the goddess's blessing, the cream puff goddess lounging at the edge with an ahegao can only give a high-quality answer.

Also.

Even her modeling is later-learned; before, she directly relied on kneading monster outsourcing to make wishes come true, hoping this goddess could clarify her ability's principle, which is less likely than hoping that the second-generation monster migrant worker will one day bring Anqi Jun over to play.

Or perhaps to come announce trouble?

Whenever he thinks of some people who, like crows, appear signaling that something big is imminent, Aomo must let go of that expectation, return to his own pondering, and frequently test interactions with Chen via monsters and monster cards.

Finally, he gave up trying to separate them so distinctly.

Now the two of them can already be confident that this is a talent constantly accompanying will and conception, and can also be confident that this is a state every person who becomes a monster controller ought to have reached, after all, at the core—every monster controller's control itself is in contact with the concept of monsters.

Those who become monster controllers certainly once had such a talent in the very beginning, having once been able to listen to the monsters' voices, for grasping this power itself is precisely to display the aberration and bestiality that surpass monsters.

In that computer world, humans are originally a part of data, while monsters are merely a bug.

But data can likewise give birth to bugs, even become the bug itself.

The strange become monsters, the wild become beasts; the so-called monster itself is both a singularity transcending the framework and a dangerous abnormality deviating from the masses.

And in the real world, the precondition for that ability to still apply is established upon the data‑level disaster caused by the chaotic roots affecting reality, and further established upon the goddess's remade monster model for each person.

That is something of the same essence as the monsters in the computer world.

Using data information as the framework, with monster seeds as the core, pouring in emotions radical like beasts and twisted like monsters gives birth to it.

The so-called monster controller's audible monster voice is precisely the voice of that emotion.

Moreover, worth mentioning is the monster power storage object constructed from the information extracted by that secret key.

Whether it is cards, badges, or USB‑drive coins, etc., they ultimately are merely biased empty shells, or more vividly put, they should be molds.

Whether it is the material inside the secret key, or the spirit immersed when using it, all will be given a temporary form in that mold.

Although merely undoing the fusion, or opting for long‑term remote control, can reduce the mold's fixation on this 'memory metal' of the spirit, the mold itself is by no means a completely dead thing.

It remembers the most suitable material, then uses the trace it left to smelt all who use it, and even in daily life it diffuses the echo of that trace, hollowly yearning to re‑merge with its kind.

Just like now.

Vast numbers of 'newbies', vast numbers of 'outsiders'.

They seemed not to have considered at all that someone could hear the movements of what they carried, and thus they simply, without suppression, without concealment, let them roar out the remnants left in their hearts.

Deafening, it made Aomo's expression behind the mask grow ever more subtle, and he drew ever nearer to the old man's subway phone and the silly netizen again posting what damn nonsense.