My palm felt warm again, the electric light flashed for half a second, and then went out on its own.
Ye Mo didn't move, staring at his hand. That last burst wasn't under his control; the lightning appeared on its own. It was in the same rhythm as the chip flashing blue light, once every seven seconds, like a heartbeat.
He stood up and walked to the Faraday cage. Inside the glass dome, the chip lay quietly; the runes on its surface were no longer hot, but every seven seconds it would indeed flash a blue light. He raised his hand, palm facing the cage.
flash.
A faint arc of electricity also appeared beneath his skin.
It's synchronized.
"Interesting," he said. "You can actually understand me."
He turned and walked towards the training area, his steps more steady than before. His adrenaline had almost subsided, and the frontal lobe convulsions hadn't worsened. That flash just now wasn't an accident; it was a response. It meant that this ability had begun to recognize him, but it wasn't yet obedient.
He needs to try.
True guidance.
It's not about uncontrolled output like blowing up a wall; it's about guiding the electric arc along a predetermined path to hit a specific location.
He put on protective gloves and stood five meters away. The target was still the same copper-core metal plate with an old scorch mark left from his previous round of bursts. It was two centimeters in diameter and the edges were blackened. He shot there.
Turn off the lights.
The entire training room went dark, with only the faint red glow of the infrared markers on the target surface. He adjusted his breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly to lower his heart rate. The system didn't give any warning, but he knew he couldn't rush things.
Recalling how Thor caught the lightning that day. The purplish-black lightning descended from the sky, struck his body, and he felt as if he had been set on fire. He was very close at the time, and a current surged through his spine—that was the feeling.
He closed his eyes and silently recited in his mind: Reproduce the band.
My palms started to feel warm.
An electric arc appeared, as thin as a hair, hovering in front of the fingertip, without jumping around randomly.
This marked the first step.
He opened his eyes and stared at the center of the scorch mark. He raised his wrist slightly and pushed forward with his mind. The electric wire followed, as if being pulled forward by an invisible thread. He had only gone halfway when he suddenly turned a corner and almost scraped against the side wall.
He immediately turned his wrist to adjust, holding his breath at the same time. The wire swayed slightly, then refocused on the target. The last section was slow, but steady.
laugh--
With a soft click, the electric arc struck the center of the scorch mark. The original mark expanded by a ring, and the edges became more carbonized, but it did not penetrate.
Hit.
He let go, and the electric arc broke.
"Okay," he said.
The monitor screen automatically replayed the trajectory curve. He went over to look and found that the path deviated twice, both times during the transition from exhalation to breathing. The physiological graph showed that the frontal lobe fluctuation increased by 0.3 Hz, indicating a brief distraction.
The problem lies in the breathing rhythm.
He noted down the conclusion: the optimal window for release is from the end of inhalation to the beginning of breath-holding. Other times are prone to inaccuracy.
This isn't luck; there are patterns that can be grasped.
He returned to the starting point, preparing for the second attempt.
This time, he held his breath for half a second beforehand, waiting for his body to completely calm down before activating the device. The electric arc appeared, still thin, but smoother than before. He used the same pulse traction method to send it forward, without deviating midway.
They still hit the same spot.
With a soft "snap," it was even crisper than last time.
Monitoring data shows the error is less than 0.5 centimeters.
"It's ripe," he said.
The third time, he didn't rush to act. Standing behind the line, he clasped his hands together, only gathering an arc of electricity in his palms without releasing it. The current coiled in his hands, warm and calm. He tried to compress it with his mind, making it smaller and then stretching it, like kneading a lump of soft clay.
Ten minutes.
He stopped. His fingers were a little numb, but not to the point of stinging. This indicated that his control was improving and his energy circulation hadn't collapsed.
Turn to a new page in the notebook and write:
The maximum effective guidance time for a single session is one complete breathing cycle, approximately 4.5 seconds. Exceeding this limit will result in a 37% decrease in control.
The following sentence was added:
Breathing rhythm determines the stability of the electric arc.
After finishing writing, he closed the notebook and looked up at the target. The two scorch marks overlapped, their color deepening.
He walked over and touched the spot where he hit it. The metal was still warm, and the surface was slightly dented.
"Looks like you're not just good at generating electricity," he said, pointing to his hand. "You can understand commands."
My palm warmed up again.
This time, he neither activated nor blocked it. He let the heat flow circulate on its own and then dissipate.
He nodded.
"Okay, we've figured it out."
Just as I was about to turn around and go to the rest area for a drink of water, I suddenly noticed the indicator light on the Faraday cage flashing in the distance.
It's not constantly on; it alternates between bright and dim, the frequency has changed.
It's no longer once every seven seconds.
Instead, it flashes in rhythm with the last guidance he gave earlier.
He strode over and peered at the chip inside through the glass. The runes were still there, but the intervals between the flashes of blue light were noticeably shorter, matching the release cycle of the electric arcs in his palm.
He raised his hand, palm facing the cage.
It wasn't actively stimulated.
wait.
Three seconds later, a spark of electricity appeared under the skin.
The chips inside the cage lit up simultaneously.
The synchronization rate has improved.
He frowned.
This is not just resonance.
It's feedback.
The chip is learning from him.
He immediately accessed the monitoring backend and checked the electromagnetic data in the shielded room. External interference was zero, and there was no internal leakage. Yet the chip was clearly responding to his output, as if... it was also practicing.
He sat back down on the bench in the training area, opened his notebook, and turned to the last page.
Write:
Fourth supplementary point: There are signs of two-way learning between the capability and the chip. When I control it, it is also recording my operating patterns.
The pen paused, then added:
Next step: Test whether it can predict my movements.
He put down his pen, placed his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes.
He no longer uses his eyes to see or monitor playback. He relies on his senses to remember the start, path, and landing point of each electric arc. Muscle memory is more reliable than data.
Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes and stood up.
Try again.
I won't wear gloves this time.
He walked behind the line, took a deep breath, and held it.
My palms are getting warm.
An electric arc appeared, slightly thicker than before.
He stared at the bullseye, keeping his wrist still, pushing only with his mind.
The electric wire slides forward in a straight line.
It didn't deviate or shake during the journey.
With a "hiss," it struck the scorch mark squarely.
He didn't stop, and immediately started on the second one.
It's still the same location.
The third course.
Three consecutive hits, one second apart, all hitting the target.
The monitoring system didn't have time to refresh the data.
He looked down at his hands.
The electric shock in my palm was still there, it hadn't dissipated.
Like waiting for his next order.
He suddenly thought of something and turned to face the Faraday cage.
Raise your hand, palm facing the chip.
This is not an attack stance.
It refers to the connection posture.
He closed his eyes and silently repeated: Reproduce the band.
The electric arc in his palm lengthened, transforming into a continuous, thin stream that pointed directly at the cage.
Three seconds.
The blue light from the chip inside the cage suddenly lit up, no longer flickering, but remaining constantly lit.
He maintained his output.
Ten seconds.
Twenty seconds.
The electric arc did not break.
His arm started to go numb, but he didn't pull away.
Until a reverse flow of heat came from my palm.
It felt like I'd been gently touched by something.
He suddenly opened his eyes.
The electric arc broke.
Inside the cage, the blue light from the chip slowly dimmed.
He stood still, without moving.
Just a moment ago, he felt something like a "response." It wasn't a system notification, nor was it a hallucination. It was the chip that touched him through lightning.
He looked down at his hands.
There is a faint scorch mark on the palm of my hand, shaped like a letter.
He didn't draw it.