143: Chapter 143 The First Batch of Foundation Establishment Mechs: A Glorious Birth

The sparks from the welding torch died out.

Five mechas stood on the cooling racks at the end of the track, their shells still emitting a dull red glow.

The wind blew in, carrying a bit of dust that settled on Chen Wuwang's shoulder.

He did not move, looking up at the cockpit of the first mecha. It was dark, like a closed eye.

The lights on the five production lines were all on; they were steady, not flickering, nor turning red.

These mechas were no longer just scattered parts. They were fully assembled. The armor on their shoulders fit perfectly, the oil pipes on their legs were arranged neatly, the energy cores in their chests were encased in a ring of green metal, and the runes and circuit boards were all connected.

It is done.

No one spoke.

Several young craftsmen stood beside the third track, their hands still resting on carts, welding masks hanging around their necks. Their faces were streaked with dried mixtures of grease and sweat.

They looked at the newly assembled mecha as if afraid that a single sound would cause it to collapse.

Chen Tiezhu stood before the main control console, without removing his protective mask, nor moving. His right hand hung down; that mechanical arm equipped with the System twitched slightly.

For three days and three nights, they had gone line by line, modifying molds, adjusting parameters, and re-installing guide rings.

The third line had exploded three times, the fourth had jammed on the armor self-locking mechanism, and the fifth had nearly burned out the entire circuit due to improper power supply.

Now, they all stood up. The five mechas stood like five iron mountains, quietly in this workshop that was once piled with wreckage.

Chen Wuwang walked down from the high platform, his boots clicking on the floor. Every step was distinct.

He stopped in front of the first mecha and raised his left hand. His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flashed with blue light, and a scanning line slid from the top of the mecha to the bottom.

Data flashed through his mind: energy error 0.001%, frequency stable, life repair System pending activation, no leaks.

He exhaled, raised his right hand, and patted the mecha's shoulder.

"Clang—"

A crisp metallic sound rang out through the workshop.

"It is alive," he said, his voice not loud, but everyone heard it.

He turned to look at the people behind him. "Come over, everyone, and look at what we have created."

No one moved.

An apprentice opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Chen Tiezhu took a deep breath and reached up to remove his protective mask. His face was covered in dust, and there was a cut on the corner of his right eye, a scratch from changing the cutter head last night.

He looked down at his hands—covered in oil, with metal shavings in his fingernails. This hand had welded over three hundred mechas, but never had any of them made him so afraid to touch them.

He looked up again at his mechanical right arm.

That was what Chen Wuwang had attached for him three years ago. At the time, he had cursed for an entire day, saying it was ruining the tradition of Artifact Refining. But now, this hand was connected to the startup Systems of five mechas.

He took off his gloves and threw them on the floor.

He straightened his clothes and walked up the high platform step by step. His pace was not fast, but every step was heavy.

He stood still and looked at everyone.

"These are our first batch of Foundation Establishment Stage specialized mechas!" he began, his voice low. "Codename 'Po Xu Type-1'! From today on, my Chen Family descendants will no longer have to rely on flesh and blood to fight!"

As his voice fell.

One second of silence.

Then, someone shouted. Then a second, a third.

Cheers erupted. Some jumped up, some hugged their companions, and an old craftsman crouched down to wipe away tears.

"It really worked... It fucking worked!" Li Xing held the recording board, her voice trembling. "All five passed the test, no guide rings exploded, no core pressure leaks, and even the self-repair System is operational!"

Chen Tiezhu did not smile. He stood on the platform, looking at the five mechas, his eyes feeling a bit hot.

He remembered twenty years ago, his wife dying in front of the Artifact Refining table, torn apart by Spiritual Qi backlash.

When he held her, he was muttering: "Next time, if the precision is half a micron higher, nothing will go wrong."

Now, he had done it. Not by relying on Spiritual Qi, not by relying on runes, but by relying on these iron contraptions, by relying on technology, by relying on the "impossible" brought by that crazy nephew.

He looked down at his mechanical hand, then suddenly raised it and slammed it hard onto the control console.

"Ding—"

The energy cores of the five mechas lit up simultaneously, a deep blue light spreading from the center, creeping along the patterns over their entire bodies.

Below the cockpit, two vertical blue lights slowly opened, like a sleeping beast opening its eyes.

The crowd suddenly went quiet.

Everyone looked up at those five pairs of "eyes."

Cold, hard, yet it seemed as if they were breathing. The green patterns on the armor glowed faintly, like blood vessels flowing.

A child stood on tiptoes, clinging to the railing, and asked in a low voice: "Dad, will it... move?"

His father did not answer, just reached out and touched the head of the boy beside him. "When you reach Foundation Establishment, you will be able to go in."

The young clansmen had already rushed forward, circling the mechas.

Some touched the leg armor; it was cold, hard, and the lines were so smooth it didn't look handmade.

Some looked up at the cockpit, imagining themselves sitting inside.

A female technician stood beside the second mecha, her fingers gently tracing the Family emblem on its chest—it was one she had carved herself.

"Is this really what we made?" an old craftsman said in a low voice. "I have forged three thousand seven hundred Magical Artifacts in my life, and not one of them compares to this."

"Before, people used Spiritual Qi to drive Magic Treasures," the person next to him replied. "Now, the Magic Treasure grows with the person. I heard those green patterns can self-repair; even if an arm is broken, it can reattach itself."

"Really? Can iron grow flesh?"

"Didn't you see the patterns Bai Ling carved? She said they are called 'Rebirth Patterns,' driven by a heartbeat. Our mechas are alive."

Everyone started discussing it excitedly.

Several elderly clansmen stood outside, frowning. An old man leaning on a cane said in a low voice:

"No matter how powerful an iron shell is, can it compare to a Golden Core Old Ancestor splitting a mountain with one sword strike? I don't believe this thing can withstand a Nascent Soul Lightning Tribulation."

The person next to him did not retort, only saying: "Back then, people didn't believe gunpowder could blow down city walls either, but what about now?"

Chen Wuwang did not participate in the discussion.

He walked to the side of the first mecha, arms crossed, quietly watching these people—some laughing, some crying, some touching the mecha, some staring blankly.

The wound on his right arm was still oozing blood, staining part of the bandage red, but he felt nothing.

He knew this moment would not come again.

Three months ago, they were still breaking down because a guide ring exploded three times; two weeks ago, the first line had only just barely run successfully; yesterday, the last piece of armor was finally installed.

How many times they wanted to give up, how many times they thought it wouldn't work, but they still turned these five iron lumps from blueprints into breathing warriors.

He raised his hand and pressed it onto the energy core on the chest of the first mecha.

"Hum—"

A pulse of light exploded from the center and spread throughout its entire body.

The eyes of the five mechas simultaneously became brighter, and a faint halo appeared in the gaps of the armor, as if blood vessels had come to life.

Everyone held their breath.

This was no longer a machine.

This was the new backbone of the Chen Family.

Chen Tiezhu stood on the high platform, his mechanical right arm trembling slightly. He looked at the five mechas below and suddenly laughed. It was an ugly laugh, with a glimmer of light in the corner of his eyes.

He did not say another word.

Because he knew that saying anything was no longer important.

What was important was that they were standing here.

What was important was that they were made by the Chen Family.

From today on, the Eastern Wasteland Chen Family would no longer be a useless clan that others could bully.

A child broke free from his mother's hand, ran to the feet of the first mecha, looked up at those blue eyes, and whispered: "Big brother, will you protect me, okay?"

The mecha did not move.

But its light seemed to soften just a little.