MY HIDDEN TALENT IS FORBIDDEN BY THE HEAVENS

Chapter 295 295: BEGINNING OF THE END

The moment Long Hao shifted his focus— Everything changed. Not the figure. Not the Authority. The network. For the first time since its emergence— It reacted to him directly.

The countless nodes scattered across the fractured world pulsed in unison, their unstable states tightening—not stabilizing, not collapsing—but aligning toward a single point. Him. "…So you finally noticed me." Long Hao exhaled slowly.

Because now— The pattern was clear. The figure wasn't the source. It was the result. And the network— Was the cause.

Above— The Authority reacted instantly. Its presence shifted sharply, pressure increasing across the entire field—not targeting the figure anymore— Targeting the nodes. Because it understood too.

"…You're late." Long Hao's voice was calm. "…You should've done that earlier." The Authority struck. Not with precision. With scale.

The entire sky collapsed downward as waves of correction swept across the battlefield, erasing nodes in massive sections—flattening space, forcing resolution, removing instability wherever it touched.

For a moment— It worked. Dozens of nodes vanished. The network shrank. The figure faltered.

Its body flickered violently— cracks forming— structure destabilizing. "…So it is connected." Long Hao's gaze sharpened.

But then— The nodes came back. Not slowly. Not gradually. Instantly. Reforming from the spaces between spaces, emerging from unresolved states the Authority couldn't fully eliminate.

More than before. "…Yeah." A faint breath left him. "…That's the problem." Because now— The network wasn't just persistent. It was self-replicating.

The Authority intensified its assault. Faster. Sharper. More absolute. Entire sections of reality were flattened repeatedly, erased again and again— But every time— The network returned.

Stronger. Denser. More connected. "…You're feeding it." Long Hao said quietly. "…Every time you try to erase it—you give it more to rebuild from."

The Authority did not stop. Because it could not. That— Was its nature. And that— Was why it would lose.

The figure moved again. Faster now. More stable. Its body no longer flickered as violently—its existence settling into something closer to permanence.

It stepped forward. And the world bent around it. Not forced. Accepted. Because now— It had presence.

Long Hao moved. Instantly. He intercepted it mid-step. Their clash didn't create impact. It created contradiction.

The space between them fractured into overlapping outcomes, each interaction splitting into variations—multiple results trying to exist at once before collapsing into one.

Long Hao struck. The figure split. Then reformed. The figure struck back. Long Hao shifted— then snapped into a different position— barely avoiding the contact.

"…You're getting better." He muttered. Because now— It was learning. Not from the Authority. Not from the network. From him.

The Jade Dragon surged forward again. Its emerald aura erupted outward, striking both the figure and the surrounding nodes— Trying to disrupt the connection.

For a moment— The network faltered. The figure staggered. But then— Everything snapped back. The nodes pulsed again. The figure stabilized.

"…It's adapting faster than we can react." The Jade Dragon's voice was tight. The Eclipse Dragon spoke next. "…Then we stop reacting."

Silence. Long Hao didn't look at them. Because he already understood. "…Yeah." A faint breath. "…We end it at the source."

But this time— He didn't look at the network. He looked at himself. Because the moment he stepped into that balanced state— Everything had changed.

The network had formed. The figure had emerged. The Authority had failed. "…So this all started with me."

The realization settled. Not heavy. Not dramatic. Clear. The Authority reacted. Its presence sharpened— focusing entirely on him again.

Because now— It understood. He wasn't just outside the system. He was— The cause of its failure.

The pressure surged. Stronger than before. Not control. Judgment. The figure moved at the same time. Not attacking. Approaching.

Because now— It recognized something too. The origin. Everything— Was converging. Long Hao stood still. Not resisting. Not moving.

"…So this is how it ends." The world trembled. Not from force. From inevitability. The Authority descended. The figure stepped closer. The network surged inward.

All of it— Focused. On him. "…Good." Long Hao's voice steadied. For the first time— No uncertainty. No hesitation. Only decision.

"…Then let's finish it properly." He stepped forward. And everything— Stopped. Not frozen. Not controlled. Interrupted.

The space around him shifted— not into balance— not into chaos— but into something deeper. Something final.

The network flickered. The Authority faltered. The figure paused. Because now— Long Hao wasn't reacting anymore.

He wasn't balancing. He wasn't resisting. He was— Choosing. "…You both keep trying to control what happens."

His voice carried. Clear. Across everything. "…But that's not how this works." The space around him collapsed inward— not into destruction— into focus.

Every node. Every fragment. Every influence. Pulled toward a single point. Him. "…This doesn't need a system."

A pause. "…And it doesn't need chaos either." The Authority surged. Trying to stop it. The network exploded outward— trying to expand.

The figure moved— trying to reach him. But they were too late. Because the moment Long Hao closed his eyes— Everything aligned.

Not forced. Chosen. The nodes stopped spreading. The Authority stopped pressing. The figure stopped moving.

Because for a single moment— Everything— Waited. For his decision. Long Hao opened his eyes. Clear. Certain.

"…It just needs an end." And then— He acted. Not with force. Not with power. With definition.

The world collapsed inward. Not destroyed. Resolved. The network shattered. Not erased. Disconnected.

The figure froze— its existence unraveling— not violently— but completely. The Authority surged— trying to reclaim control— but there was nothing left to control.

Because now— Everything— Was being reduced. Not to nothing. To one. The space trembled violently.

Because this— Was the final step. And it could not be undone. Long Hao exhaled slowly. "…This is it."

And for the first time— The world didn't resist. Because it knew. This was the beginning— Of the end.

But the collapse didn't finish immediately. It slowed. Not because it weakened— But because something resisted.

The final convergence hesitated at the edge of completion, as if the world itself was unwilling to fully become one.

Fragments flickered back into existence— Faint. Incomplete. Echoes of what had just been erased.

The network wasn't gone. Not entirely. It lingered. Residual. The figure didn't move— But it didn't disappear either.

Its outline remained, unstable, caught between being undone and being remembered. Even the Authority— Didn't withdraw.

Its presence hovered— Reduced— But not absent. Long Hao felt it instantly. This wasn't a clean ending.

It couldn't be. Because what had begun— Could not be completely undone. "…So that's the limit."

His voice was quiet. Not disappointed. Understanding. The world trembled again— But this time— Not from collapse.

From resistance. The final step— Wasn't just about ending everything. It was about deciding— What would remain.

And for the first time— That choice— Wasn't automatic. It was his.

END OF CHAPTER 295