The Time Has Come to Break the Second Lock

What exactly was an award-winning actor like?

Different actors had different styles. Some were relatively exaggerated, while others were more restrained. But regardless of the style, a casual glance or an unintentional gesture often best revealed one's acting skill.

Most such performances returned to simplicity, ordinary yet extraordinary. They conformed to common sense while radiating exceptional charm, growing richer the more one savored them. Using precisely fitting expressions to display the most complex inner thoughts and give others the deepest emotional experience—that was award-winning acting.

Shi Tiexin still did not have many expressions.

But after unblocking his facial nerve, he could enter a state where every frown and smile carried feeling at any time. Like the most seasoned veteran actor, he did not need to bare his teeth and grimace, yet he could evoke empathy in reverse, allowing others to fully feel his emotions.

Put simply, every emotional expression had been enhanced without becoming awkward, making it easier for others to feel what he felt.

This was no small matter—it gave his buff application an epic-level boost.

Previously, applying buffs had been like running a massive pyramid scheme rally: gather everyone together, give them a speech, then shower them with motivational fervor by the fistful. The results had been decent, but it was overly deliberate and too focused on form, easily breeding resentment in those who did not swallow inspirational chicken soup. After all, if a leader force-fed you a bowl of chicken soup every day, no one could take it for long.

But now, everything had changed.

Shi Tiexin discovered that he no longer needed to blow grand boasts every day. He only needed to interact with people normally, and the influence of his chicken soup would seep out through every word and deed, spreading into the surrounding area.