24: Chapter 24 Training the Clan, Master of Mechs

The wind at the training ground had not yet fully dissipated, and the smell of scorched earth mixed with the lingering warmth of metal wafted through the air. Chen Wuwang remained where he stood, his right hand resting on the edge of the stone table, his fingertips lightly tapping the surface.

Three taps.

Just like the last time—crisp and short, like nails being driven into wood.

But this time, no one cheered, and no one responded with slogans. The crowd fell silent, their gazes slowly shifting away from the mecha that had just cleaved a mountain cliff and landing on him. They knew that the storm had just passed, and the path to survival had only just begun.

"The core of operation lies in psionic control," he began, his voice not loud, yet it suppressed the breathing of everyone present. "It's not about how densely the runes are engraved, nor how much brute force you use—it's about perception, conduction, and feedback. These three steps must not go wrong."

He raised his left hand, and a Titanium Alloy Dagger unsheathed half an inch, its tip pointing directly at the Energy Central Module beneath the cockpit.

"Whoever touches it must understand it. If you don't understand it, you'll be nothing more than a laborer hauling iron."

Silence fell below. Several young clansmen looked at each other, their eyes filled with both excitement and fear. They had seen the mecha fire its cannons, but that was Chen Xiaodao's job. Now the Family Head was saying they should get on too? Who dared to believe they could also control such a thing?

Chen Wuwang ignored their hesitation. He turned his head and swept his gaze toward the lecture area on the east side.

"Uncle Tiezhu."

Chen Tiezhu was startled, his hand pausing in mid-air as he looked down at an interface model he was inspecting. He had just recovered from the tremors of the cannon test, his mind still racing, sweat dripping down his temples. Hearing his name, he instinctively responded, "Present."

"You will teach them the knowledge of Artifact Refining," Chen Wuwang said bluntly, as ordinary as giving an order to eat or drink.

"Huh?" Chen Tiezhu looked up, his brows furrowed into a knot. "Me? Teach... teach people?"Trimmed.

"Yes, you." Chen Wuwang stared at him, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Chen Tiezhu opened his mouth, his hand unconsciously scratching the back of his head, his movements as stiff as rusted gears. "Family Head, please don't joke... I only know how to forge iron! It's really just swinging a hammer, watching the heat, and listening to the ring of metal—can these things really teach someone how to pilot a mecha?"

He spoke with increasing urgency, his voice rising slightly. "Besides, those guide rails, pressure valves, energy circuits... I'm learning them all as I go, figuring out many parts by feel! Let me give a lecture? With what? With my face?"

After finishing, he grinned, trying to laugh to lighten the mood, but the result was a smile that looked worse than crying.

Someone nearby coughed twice, but no one spoke up. Everyone knew that Uncle Tiezhu was an honest man who had spent his whole life dealing with furnace fires. He was a man of few words and a stubborn temper, famous for being the type who would "rather weld it three more times than say one more word." Asking him to stand on a stage and lecture was more far-fetched than a pig climbing a tree.

But Chen Wuwang didn't laugh.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a cold smirk, his gaze like a blade scraping across Chen Tiezhu's face.

"Forging iron?" His voice lowered, carrying an undeniable coldness. "The first Mid-tier Mecha you built had a guide rail error of less than three silk threads, a rune integration rate of ninety-eight point seven percent, and an energy conversion efficiency four times higher than a traditional Magical Artifact—and you're still telling me you only know how to forge iron?"

Chen Tiezhu's throat tightened, and he couldn't speak.

"You're not just an iron forger." Chen Wuwang approached step by step, his boot soles making short clicking sounds on the gravel. "You're the first person to engrave runes into Nano-rails, the first to use a furnace to fire a Psionic Chip Substrate, and you're the one who personally welded 'impossible' into 'functional'."

He stopped in front of Chen Tiezhu, retracted his dagger, and placed his left hand on the other man's shoulder.

"You are not just a craftsman."

"You are a pioneer of Technological Artifact Refining."

Those five words were like five nails, driven one by one into Chen Tiezhu's mind.

He froze, his lips trembling slightly, and his eyes suddenly grew warm. He lowered his head, looking at the still-hot interface model in his hand—this was the new version he had stayed up all night to adjust, a level-three stabilization mechanism that even he hadn't dared to claim was one hundred percent stable.

But the Family Head had said it.

A pioneer.

Not "the old man who can forge iron," not "the foreman of the Artifact Refining Workshop," but a "pioneer."

The word was too heavy, making his shoulders sink and his knees almost buckle.

But at that very moment, something exploded in his chest. It wasn't pride, nor excitement, but a feeling of being completely recognized—just like twenty years ago when he forged his first Flying Sword blank, and his Master patted his shoulder and said, "This kid will be able to change the industry rules in the future."

He took a deep breath, looked up, and his gaze changed.

No more dodging, no more hesitation.

"Fine." His voice was raspy, but incredibly steady. "I'll teach."

Chen Wuwang said no more, only nodded, took a step back, and returned to his position on the high platform. His right hand rested on the stone table again, and his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flashed slightly, scanning the temporary teaching desk set up below—an old iron table cobbled together, with several disassembled mecha parts and a few hand-drawn guide rail diagrams on it.

The first batch of students consisted of only ten people, all young clansmen between sixteen and twenty years old. Some came from the Medicinal Field, while others grew up digging stones in the mines. They stood straight, not knowing where to put their hands, their eyes fixed on Chen Tiezhu as if looking at a cow that had suddenly learned to talk.

Chen Tiezhu walked onto the podium, his steps a bit stiff, his back held straight. He picked up a Runic Wrench, his fingers gripping it until they turned white.

"Today..." he began, his voice a bit dry, "we will talk about the interface standards for energy guide rails."

He paused, seemingly searching for words. Then he reached out and picked up a silver-gray guide rail segment from the table, with three parallel rune lines engraved on the back.

"This is called a Level 1 Coupling Port." He pointed to the interface groove. "Seven millimeters wide, four point two deep, with a tolerance not exceeding zero point three—if it exceeds that, energy will leak, at best burning the circuits, at worst exploding the cockpit."

As he spoke, he gestured with the wrench, and his movements gradually became smoother.

"Look here, the runes must be engraved counter-clockwise, and the third stroke must have a curve, otherwise the resonance frequency won't match. We used to rely on feel, but that won't work anymore—now every mecha must be exactly the same. If it's off by a hair, the entire assembly line will have to stop."

He spoke faster and faster, his eyes lighting up, and his hand movements became lively, as if he had returned to his most focused moments in front of the furnace.

The people below listened intently; some took out charcoal pencils to take notes, while others whispered keywords. A tall, thin youth stared at the blueprint for a long time before suddenly raising his hand. "Uncle, what if the purity of the Materials is not enough? Can we still use this set of standards?"

Chen Tiezhu was taken aback, then smiled. "Good question. If the Materials aren't good enough, we compensate with craftsmanship. I'll teach you how to adjust the furnace's temperature curve to push the Impurities to the edges, and then use cold forging to press it once more—this is called the 'Residue Stripping Method,' which I figured out last year."

As he spoke, he completely opened up, his voice booming and his gestures growing larger. He even stood on his tiptoes, pointing to the cross-section diagram of the guide rail hanging on the wall to explain.

Chen Wuwang stood on the high platform, watching quietly.

He didn't interrupt or urge him on. He just rested his right hand lightly on the edge of the table, his fingertips occasionally tapping, as if counting the rhythm in silence.

He knew that this lesson had begun.

It wasn't the second the mecha started, nor the moment the cannon fire tore through the mountain—it was now, when a man who only knew how to forge iron, for the first time, turned the hammer in his hand into the light in others' eyes.

The wind at the training ground rose again.

It blew across the mecha frame that had not yet cooled, swept over the diagrams and parts on the teaching desk, and brushed past the beads of sweat on Chen Tiezhu's forehead.

He was holding a psionic interface model, stuttering as he explained the level-three stabilization mechanism. His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear and carried weight.

"Remember," he said, "this isn't cultivation, nor is it Artifact Refining—this is creating life."

Chen Wuwang's gaze swept across the record board, his expression cold and focused.

The training had begun; the sparks were just starting to ignite.

In the distance, the hydraulic System of the first Mid-tier Mecha made a slight pressure-release sound.

Inside the cockpit, the control lever remained motionless.