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Regarding this point, Wu Yiliu, who considered himself to be calmer than most, understood it even more profoundly.

The so-called “rational person” doesn’t exist; the vast majority of human decisions are determined by underlying emotions. The inner world governed by emotions is so intricate and changeable that it’s almost chaotic and nearly impossible to comprehend clearly.

A long time ago, when his old world was still a normal place, Wu Yiliu had seen a segment of a news interview online.

The news was mainly about a local woman who, after returning from a business trip one afternoon, had taken her two children from home without contacting her husband or friends and disappeared. Days went by, and there was no sign of them.

The case became a sensation and quickly made it to television. During an interview with the husband, there was a detail that Wu Yiliu remembered vividly.

“Last night was unbearable for me,” the husband said to the reporter, his composure finally faltering, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t go to my children’s room to turn off the lights, couldn’t say goodnight to them, and couldn’t kiss my wife’s forehead like usual before bed. There was only me left in the house. I just hope… I just hope they can come back, wherever they are.”

His tone was pleading, as if asking the reporter to bring them back.

At the time, Wu Yiliu couldn’t help but rewind the video a little to watch this part again. He could feel that the emotion was real and moving, and his cla.s.smates who were watching with him felt the same. The husband’s grief and longing were clearly conveyed through the screen—even though he knew that he himself had killed his wife and children.

This news clip was circulated online precisely because the husband was soon arrested and imprisoned. Humans are such complex creatures that even a demonic person like him would have a moment of genuine longing for the family he had killed.

What if that fleeting emotion could be infinitely magnified? Would he have cried and confessed on television?

This detail stayed in Wu Yiliu’s mind; he never forgot it, although he rarely thought of it. The next time he remembered this interview was after he had evolved his first ability.

“The third reason I told Abby the story,” Wu Yiliu said softly to the woman still sitting on the stone in the pouring rain, “including why I’ve said so much to you… I’ll tell you now.”

“Abby” indeed could not stand up. “She” had undoubtedly tried, as the ominous implications in his words were strong enough to make any posthuman’s eyebrows twitch. But despite “Abby” putting her hands on the rock, her legs remained as stiff and quiet as the rock beneath her, refusing to support her standing up.

Wu Yiliu smiled at her gently and activated his ability.

The dark rainwater seemed like a backdrop, against which countless dreamlike forms rapidly emerged. Without shape, they seemed like fleeting shadows under deep water, sudden heartbeats, or soft, echoing bird calls.

These newly arisen, illusory colors intermingled with the black forest in the rain, some sharply defined, others gently blending together.

Amidst the many layers and tangled flows of subtle shades, he immediately fixed his target—his body didn’t move, but in his mind, he reached out and grasped that shadow that was about to slip away from the rus.h.i.+ng dark currents.

Like a conductor of an orchestra, Wu Yiliu held the unseen shadow and raised his hand gently: the note he plucked from this dark and complex symphony was the tone he would now amplify infinitely.

“Abby, do it now!” he suddenly yelled amidst the roaring rain, his voice piercing through the rain curtain and scattering into the dark forest.

In the next moment, Abby, who was sitting on the stone, suddenly trembled as if someone had pushed her, and she fell to the ground.

The blonde woman tumbled down in the muddy gra.s.s beneath the curtain of rain, her body convulsing as if it was being torn apart by two intentions. As Abby battled the will of another player, Wu Yiliu continuously amplified and strengthened the “note” he had just grasped. Soon, the struggle within the blonde woman came to an end, and she struggled to stand up from the gra.s.s, stumbling forward a few steps before managing to steady herself. When she spoke, her voice was laden with tears.

“It’s me, Abby,” she said, not only panting but each word seeming crushed as if she were too eager to get it out. “It’s me, I—I—how could, how could it be like that?”

Wu Yiliu stared at Abby, still not letting go of the breath she had captured.

Three seconds, two seconds, one second—when the time limit of his ability was reached, and the intertwined swirling breaths suddenly vanished, he immediately rushed forward two steps, grabbed Abby’s wrist, and yelled, “Run!”

Abby was, after all, a posthuman who had made her stand in the Twelve Worlds Centrum, and her reaction was not slow. She followed him into the dark, rain-shrouded forest, running and shouting, “Where are we going? What do we do? Will they catch up?”

If there were indeed two players, at least the other one, who remained “invisible,” would catch up in no time. Wu Yiliu had no idea how fast this unknown “soul” could move or if he was even bound by speed.

But the two had to run. At least in running, their minds, bodies, and focus would be on the act itself. Wu Yiliu hoped that this could help them resist the player’s whispers.

But Abby had just woken up, and her confusion was too great. After they had run for a while, stumbling through the dark rain, she couldn’t help but ask, “Did, did you use your ability just now? Did you save me?”

Wu Yiliu, busy watching the road and escaping, managed to reply, “I used my evolved ability, temporarily suppressing that player for a while!”

After saying this, he couldn’t help but smile bitterly.

Perhaps he had used up all his luck trying to survive and evolve, so his first evolved ability seemed not very powerful. He had spent some time waiting to fly on rooftops, float in the air, or shoot lasers from his eyes. Only after a while did he realize he could now “see” human emotions and feelings.

[Human Concerto]

If every human is a complex symphony, the flowing, alternating, and corresponding notes must dominate most of the human’s decisions: anger, fear, compa.s.sion, empathy, anxiety, desire, satisfaction. But having the notes doesn’t necessarily make a satisfying melody, right?

Upon activating the ability, one can not only see all emotions and feelings produced by humans around them—all of them, no matter how subtle or fleeting—but also extract one and either amplify or suppress it, like a conductor deciding to make a part of the symphony louder or softer.

Everyone is a complex blend of emotions, and even if an enemy feels fear for a moment, if you can grasp and amplify it, you can crush or collapse them with their emotions without moving a muscle.

Of course, when a certain emotion or feeling is amplified or diminished to a certain extent, the target will naturally take corresponding actions: in too much despair or depression, they may jump into the sea or shoot you; anything is possible.

At the current stage, this ability only allows for the capture of one emotion, with a time limit of fifteen seconds, and can be used once every 12 hours. In the future, if the upgrade requirements are met, it will be possible not only to manipulate the intensity of emotions but even to adjust their direction: for example, capturing “joy” can be gradually turned into “sorrow.”

Wu Yiliu later found out that generally, a posthuman’s first evolved ability is closely related to their apocalyptic world. But for some reason, his ability didn’t seem to have any connection with Changelings or the chaotic end-of-the-world scenario. Instead, it focused on human emotions themselves.

He was utterly disappointed at the time. What significant use could it have? Even if he could crush an opponent with their fear, who would feel “fear” towards him, a newbie posthuman with such a weak ability?

However, Wu Yiliu actually managed to survive step by step with it, developing a second evolved ability. Like a s…o…b..ll, his capability gradually grew larger, eventually bringing him to the Twelve Worlds Centrum and even earning him professional repute. Thinking back on the past decade or so of his life, it all seemed like a dream.

“The player who brainwashed you won’t be able to recover from their ecstasy in a short time,” Wu Yiliu said, feeling as if he were eating raindrops with each breath. Speaking and breathing was more challenging than usual in the wind and rain coming at them. ” As for the other one, I’ve never communicated with them, and I don’t even know if there’s another player.”

“So where are we going now? Do you know which direction we came from?”

Wiping the rainwater from his face, Wu Yiliu shouted, “We’re going back to the camping cabin!”