MY HIDDEN TALENT IS FORBIDDEN BY THE HEAVENS-Chapter 262: System Chose to Erase First

Chapter 262 — The Ones the System Chose to Erase First

It didn’t take long—For the system to understand. It didn’t resist them. It didn’t try to suppress everyone. It selected.

Far above—The fragment shifted. Not broadly. Not across regions. Focused.

Back in the valley—Long Hao felt it. Not everywhere. On specific points. "...It’s narrowing again." Longyu’s form flickered beside him. Barely there. Fading. "...Yes." A pause. "...It found them." Long Hao’s gaze hardened. "...The ones who can see."

In the eastern city—Movement continued. But different now. Not chaotic. Not reactive. Guided. The path readers moved first. Others followed. Not blindly. But dependently.

"...Left." "...Stop." "...Wait." Their voices cut through movement. Clear. Precise. And it worked. The system reacted—But slower. Marks appeared—Then missed. Then failed entirely. "...We’re stabilizing." The woman said quietly. "...For now."

Back in the valley—Long Hao exhaled slowly. "...They’re forming structure again." Longyu’s voice flickered. "...Around perception." A pause. "...That makes them targets."

In the eastern city—It happened. Without warning. A reader stepped forward. Paused. Shifted. Perfect timing. A mark appeared. Not ahead. Not around. On him. Instant. No delay. No hesitation. He froze. Collapsed. Silence hit. Shocked. Confused. "...No." The woman whispered. "...He saw it." "...He adjusted." "...He didn’t fail." But he still died.

Back in the valley—Long Hao’s eyes narrowed. "...Direct targeting." Longyu nodded faintly. "...Yes." "...It’s no longer judging actions." "...It’s identifying individuals." Silence. Because that—Was worse.

In another region—The same thing happened. A reader moved. Saw the distortion. Adjusted. A mark appeared. On them. They collapsed. "...It’s hunting them." "...Specifically." Fear spread. Not across everyone. Across those who understood.

Back in the eastern city—The unaligned man stepped forward. "...Readers—pull back." "...Everyone else—move." Confusion. "...But we need them." "...That’s why they’re dying." Silence. Because that—Made sense.

The system wasn’t removing randomness. It was removing clarity.

Back in the valley—Long Hao exhaled slowly. "...It’s eliminating advantage." Longyu’s voice flickered. "...Yes." "...Targeting the highest probability disruptors." A pause. "...Then we hide them."

In the eastern city—Readers stepped back. Not stopping. Not leaving. Blending. Among others. "...Don’t stand out." "...Don’t lead." "...Don’t guide openly." Movement changed again. Less directed. More subtle. Readers moved—But quietly. Adjusting paths—Without signaling. The system reacted. Marks appeared—But uncertain. Not clean. "...It lost clear identification." "...For now."

Back in the valley—Long Hao’s gaze sharpened. "...It won’t last." Longyu nodded faintly. "...No." "...It will refine again."

Far above—The fragment shifted. Sharply. Because now—It needed better resolution.

In the eastern city—The system adapted. Marks appeared—Not on individuals. Not on movement. On behavior patterns. A cluster—Of subtle adjustments—Marked. Three people—Collapsed. "...It’s detecting patterns again." "...Even hidden ones." Panic tried to rise. Didn’t fully form. Because now—They understood.

Back in the valley—Long Hao exhaled slowly. "...Then we remove patterns entirely." Longyu’s voice flickered. "...That leaves nothing." A pause. "...No." "...It leaves chaos."

In the eastern city—The unaligned man spoke again. "...No consistent readers." "...No fixed perception." "...Everyone learns." Confusion. "...That’s impossible." "...Then we fail." Silence. Because that—Was the truth.

A reader stepped forward. Looked at the others. "...Watch me." He moved. Not fast. Not perfect. But deliberate. He paused. Pointed. "...There." A distortion flickered. Others saw it. Barely. They moved. Together. Adjusted. Survived. "...Again." He said. Slowly—Others began to see. Not clearly. Not consistently. But enough.

Back in the valley—Long Hao’s eyes sharpened. "...They’re spreading perception." Longyu’s voice flickered. "...Yes." "...Diluting the target."

Far above—The fragment shifted. Not violently. But with intent. Because now—The problem had changed again. It wasn’t a few—Who could see. It was many. Imperfect. Incomplete. But growing. And that—Was far harder to erase.

It didn’t stop there. It escalated.

In the eastern city—The readers gathered. Not formally. Not organized. But drawn together. Because they understood something others didn’t. "...If it’s targeting us—" A man stepped forward. Calm. Steady. "...Then we stop running." Silence. "...That’s suicide." Someone said it immediately. "...No." He shook his head. "...Running gives it clean data." A pause. "...So we give it something else." Confusion. "...What?" He looked up. Not at the sky—But beyond it. "...We let it see us." The words landed heavy. "...And then?" "...We lie."

Back in the valley—Long Hao’s gaze sharpened. "...They’re baiting it." Longyu’s voice flickered. "...Yes." "...But that requires precision."

In the eastern city—The man stepped forward. "...Watch closely." He moved. Not subtly. Not hidden. Deliberate. Clear. A distortion formed. Faster than before. Sharper. "...It locked on him." Someone whispered. He didn’t adjust. Didn’t evade. He continued. Straight into it. A mark appeared. On him. Gasps spread. "...He’s dead." But he smiled. Just slightly. "...Now." Another reader moved. From the side. Precise. The distortion—Shifted. Split. The mark flickered. Unstable. Then—It broke. The first man staggered—But didn’t fall. Silence. Absolute. "...You interrupted it." The woman whispered. "...No." He exhaled slowly. "...I forced it to confirm." Confusion spread again. "...What does that mean?" "...It doesn’t kill on prediction alone anymore." "...It verifies." A pause. "...And that takes time."

Back in the valley—Long Hao’s eyes narrowed. "...Confirmation delay." Longyu nodded faintly. "...Yes." "...A second layer before execution."

In the eastern city—The man stepped back. "...If we trigger early—" "...We can break it before it completes." Understanding hit. Hard. "...So we don’t avoid marks." "...We disrupt them." The strategy changed. Immediately. Readers stepped forward—On purpose. Drawing distortions. Triggering marks. Others moved—At that exact moment. Breaking alignment. Splitting outcomes. The system reacted—Faster. More aggressively. Marks formed—But flickered. Split. Collapsed. Not always. But enough. "...We can fight it now."

Back in the valley—Long Hao exhaled slowly. "...They crossed the line." Longyu’s form flickered violently. Almost gone. "...Yes." "...From survival—" "...To resistance."

Far above—The fragment shifted. Sharply. Because now—Something had changed again. Not adaptation. Not evasion. Interference. And that—Was something it could not ignore.

The fragment didn’t hesitate this time. It didn’t widen its influence or scatter its attention—it sharpened it. The distortions across multiple regions flickered in unison for a brief instant, as if something deeper had synchronized beneath the surface. Not faster. Not stronger. Smarter. The system wasn’t reacting anymore—it was learning how they interfered, how they forced confirmation, how they disrupted outcomes. And now, it began to anticipate.

In the eastern city, the readers felt it before they saw it. The distortions no longer formed cleanly or predictably. They staggered—appearing in fragments, overlapping, layering in ways that made them harder to read. One reader stepped forward to bait a mark, just like before—but this time, two distortions appeared. One false. One real. He chose wrong. The mark didn’t flicker. It locked. He dropped instantly. No interruption. No delay.

Silence spread again—but this time, it was different. Not shock. Not confusion. Calculation. "...It’s adapting to interference," the unaligned man said quietly. "...It’s testing our responses." The others didn’t argue. They were already adjusting, watching each other instead of the distortions, reading hesitation, timing movement based on instinct instead of sight. The battlefield had shifted again—from reading the system... to reading each other.

Back in the valley, Long Hao’s gaze hardened as he felt the change ripple outward. "...It’s closing the gap," he muttered. Longyu didn’t answer immediately—her form flickering dangerously thin now. "...No," she said after a moment. "...It’s doing something worse." A pause. "...It’s learning how to think like you."

And The Ones the System Chose to Erase First.

Chapter 262 End