books44 Chapter 307 [Empire] Unstable Explosives
Chapter 307 [Empire] Unstable Explosives
Nightingale's eyes narrowed slightly, and he didn't seem surprised that I continued to ask questions. Instead, he raised his eyebrows slightly and showed a meaningful smile: "If it is not used in time, or in other words, the energy source is not consumed at the right time, then the result is hard to say." He paused, as if thinking about how to accurately describe the possible situation.
"You know, the biggest characteristic of a weapon like 'Squeamish' is its unstable energy conversion process. It's like a time bomb: the longer the energy is stored, the more unpredictable its ultimate explosive force becomes. You can't be sure when the energy will suddenly get out of control, nor how it will be released when it does." Nightingale's voice was somewhat calm, as if he was already accustomed to this kind of situation. "If you miss the most opportune moment, the energy will accumulate in storage, becoming increasingly unstable. Once it gets out of control, it could harm the enemy at best, or even yourself at worst."
As I listened to his explanation, some thoughts began to form in my mind. "In other words, the longer a weapon like 'Squeamish' remains unused, the more difficult it becomes to control?" I frowned, a hint of unease in my tone.
Nightingale nodded, seemingly satisfied with my understanding. "That's right. It's indeed a high-risk weapon. It can deliver a fatal blow to the enemy in an instant, but it can also become a bomb that could explode at any time due to improper operation or delay."
I couldn't help but be silent. While this weapon's power was astonishing, if I couldn't control it properly, the consequences could be far more severe than I could bear. This thought made me start to think more carefully about how to use it.
"Then...is there any way to reduce this risk?" I couldn't help but continue asking, and I had already begun to feel a little wary of this "squeamish" person.
Nightingale seemed to have been waiting for me to ask this question for a long time. His eyes became deep and sharp. "Reducing the risk? Of course there are ways, but not everyone can do it. You must be completely synchronized with the energy source and the 'heartbeat' of the weapon. Only by truly understanding how it works can you achieve precise control at critical moments and avoid unnecessary loss of control."
At this point, his eyes suddenly grew sharper. "To achieve this, besides talent, it's more important to go through a lot of actual combat. Most importantly, it's your ability to perceive combat and your grasp of energy flow."
He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "However, since you've chosen this path, you must be prepared to shoulder this responsibility. The risk of the Squeamish Ghost is precisely its charm. If you can control it, you can become a threat far more powerful than conventional weapons."
"How do you know I chose it?" I couldn't help but retort. "Do you think it's a plant energy you picked up on the road? Three minutes a dollar, who can afford it?"
Nightingale smiled slightly after hearing what I said, the curve of his mouth carrying a hint of unknown meaning. He did not refute immediately, but narrowed his eyes, as if pondering the subtext of my words.
He flicked the cigarette butt away, the smoke filling the air. He looked relaxed. "You think I'm just watching the fun?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You may not realize yet, but you've already gone too far down this path."
His words took me a moment to react, and I couldn't help but frown, feeling a little irritated. Actually, I was tired of hearing him say this. It was as if he'd already predicted what I was going to do, which path I was going to take. Every time he said this, he had this air of superiority, of knowing everything.
"Who's picking up plant energy along the way?" he scoffed in a low, casual voice that made people uncomfortable. "Look at yourself. How many steps have you taken to get here that weren't picked up? You weren't born with this ability, were you? From that keeper exam, to dealing with exotic beasts, to now holding this 'squeamish ghost,' haven't you been picking up things with every step you've taken?"
I was choked by his words and felt a little angry, but I couldn't say anything to refute him.
Yes, no matter how I look at it or think about it, every path I've taken to get here doesn't seem to have come out of thin air, but rather was "picked up" from other people's opportunities and from countless choices. And some of those "picked up" things don't entirely belong to me.
Nightingale stopped looking at me, his gaze drifting off to the abandoned factory area in the distance. The smoky night made his face look even more stern. "You're right, three minutes for a dollar, who can afford it?" He exhaled a puff of smoke. "But aren't you 'playing' too? Do you think you can stop playing? If you don't, wait for me to bring you food?"
I found it a bit harsh, as if he had treated me as an incompetent child and was planning my life for me.
I couldn't help but take a deep breath, suppressing my unhappiness, and said in a deep voice, "So, you mean I have no choice but to keep playing? No matter how I play, I have no choice anyway?"
He turned his head and glanced at me, his eyes seemed to reveal a kind of shrewdness and calmness: "No, who said there is no choice? You can choose to give up, or you can choose to continue. The question is, do you dare to give up? Do you dare to give up the most tempting toy in the world?" The corners of his mouth curled up slightly, as if he knew my choice in advance, and there was a hint of confidence and teasing in his eyes.
I froze, my thoughts swirling. Give up, give up what? Give up those opportunities, give up this dangerous path?
Nightingale looked at me, his eyes filled with complex and unpredictable emotions. He chuckled, his voice filled with a hint of disdain, "You never thought about giving up, because you know you can't give up." His words struck a deep place in my heart, leaving me unable to refute.
"Okay, understand?" He patted my shoulder, his tone relaxed yet tinged with a strong sense of power. "No matter what you choose, you still have to walk your own path. What you pick up may not all be given to you by others. You also have the ability to 'pick' up your own path." He seemed to give up on persuading me. He stood up, dusted off his hands, and sneered, "Remember, 'Squeamish' is not a toy, and energy is not something to be wasted. As long as you can master it, you can fight and control it. Otherwise, it's not just the enemy that will be blown away, you will also be blown away."
I pointed the water gun at the night sky, releasing its remaining energy to avoid being "blown away." I seemed to see a fountain of green light. It was completely different from the effect just now. I looked at the nightingale with some confusion.