279: Chapter 279 Chen Qiaoshou Joins

The morning light spilled onto the high platform outside the Furnace Area, and the air carried the scent of scorched metal.

Many people were gathered there, but no one spoke.

The discarded substrate from just a moment ago had suddenly lit up with a blue glow, and everyone was stunned—

Was there actually someone who could still modify energy circuits by hand these days? And with just a knife?

Chen Wuwang stood before Chen Qiaoshou, his shadow falling at his feet.

He didn't ask much, just stared at the other person for two seconds before saying softly, "The third one?"

Chen Qiaoshou nodded, his voice a bit low, "The first two… blew up."

He didn't look at anyone as he said this, his eyes fixed on the substrate that was still hot to the touch.

There were several new scratches on his fingers, caused by carving the circuits just moments ago.

He didn't wipe them, nor did he feel any pain.

He had experienced this kind of thing many times. Ever since he first dismantled a spiritual energy module in a scrap heap, he had shouldered the explosions, the burning, and the smoke all on his own.

But the person in front of him was different.

He wore a black martial outfit, a glowing Mechanical Prosthetic Eye over his left eye, and a dagger covered in runes tucked at his waist; he stood still, not in any rush.

Yet, just by looking at you, he made you feel as though the things you had hidden deep inside were being seen through.

When Chen Wuwang heard "The first two blew up," his pupils contracted slightly.

Reconnecting an energy pathway three times in a row, even with two failures, meant that this person had a complete computational model in his head.

It wasn't a matter of trial and error; it was calculated.

It was like writing a program, modifying it over and over until it succeeded.

He stepped forward half a pace, closing the distance, and could smell the scent of machine oil and sweat on the other person.

He raised his hand, a silver-gray chip held between his fingertips, and placed it gently beside the substrate.

"I don't care about the past," he said. "I only look to the future."

After a pause, his voice lowered further, "Join us, and you won't have to repair scrap metal alone anymore."

As soon as these words were spoken, the people around them held their breath.

Someone wanted to speak but swallowed the words back down.

This wasn't a standard recruitment; this was a big shot personally coming to poach someone.

And it was for a wandering artisan whose name no one knew.

Chen Qiaoshou didn't move.

He lowered his head to look at the chip; the six characters "Technology Workshop · Entry Key" were written on the front, glinting in the sunlight.

He knew how important this was—it meant being able to enter the core workshop of the Eastern Wasteland Chen Family, use Advanced Materials, and participate in official projects.

A qualification that many veteran artisans couldn't obtain in a lifetime was now lying right next to a scorched board.

But he also knew that once you entered the door, you had to follow the rules.

He couldn't sneak into the abandoned workshop at midnight to dismantle parts anymore, couldn't mess with circuits, and couldn't work all by himself to the end.

He hesitated.

His fingers twitched, but he didn't reach out to touch the chip.

At this moment, the crowd parted to open a path.

Chen Xiaodao squeezed in, a registration book hanging from his shoulder and a pen in his hand.

He bent down, picked up the chip, and shoved it directly into Chen Qiaoshou's hand.

"I was also abandoned in a slag heap when I was five," he said, his voice clear and bright. "It was my brother who picked me up. Now, I count as a Sword Cultivator."

He paused and looked into Chen Qiaoshou's eyes, "Here, we don't ask where you came from; we only care about how far you can go."

These words were simple, yet they shook people to their core.

Chen Qiaoshou looked up at him and found that the young man's eyes were very clear—there was no testing and no pity, just a genuine belief in those words.

But before he could react, a cold snort came from the side.

"A quick tongue."

Chen Tiezhu walked over from the west, arms crossed over his chest, his brows furrowed tightly:

"Do you understand Artifact Refining? Do you know how long a substrate can withstand high temperatures?"

Chen Xiaodao smiled, "I don't understand, but I trust that he can fix it."

"Trust?" Chen Tiezhu glared. "The Artifact Refining Workshop isn't child's play! One mistake, and the whole line shuts down, with hundreds of people wasting a month's work!"

He turned his head to look at Chen Qiaoshou, eyeing him up and down, "This technique of yours… you've never had a master?"

Chen Qiaoshou shook his head.

"Then you must come in all the more," Chen Tiezhu's tone suddenly hardened. "Don't let good craftsmanship rot out here."

"What the Eastern Wasteland lacks isn't people who can swing a hammer; it's people who can figure out 'why it's connected this way.'"

When these words were spoken, he himself was stunned for a moment.

He had intended to dampen the kid's arrogance, but as he spoke, it sounded as if he were persuading him to stay.

But thinking about it, he wasn't wrong.

Back then, his wife had been suppressed by the Sect because she created her own engravings, and in the end, she died from a Spiritual Qi backlash.

Now that he saw another person who didn't follow the beaten path, the tension in his heart loosened without him realizing it.

The three of them formed a small circle, with Chen Qiaoshou in the middle.

One calm, one enthusiastic, one serious.

But their eyes were the same—all waiting for an answer.

Chen Qiaoshou took a deep breath.

He looked at Chen Wuwang; the other man didn't speak, just nodded slightly.

He looked at Chen Xiaodao again; that kid winked at him.

Finally, there was Chen Tiezhu, who wore a stern face but had already reached out to pat him heavily on the shoulder.

That hand was a bit heavy, but also a bit warm.

He finally reached out, picked up the chip, and gripped it tightly.

The metal edges pressed into his palm, but he didn't let go.

"I… am willing to try," he said, his voice not loud, but every word was clear.

The corners of Chen Wuwang's mouth lifted slightly.

He didn't smile, nor did he applaud; he simply raised his right hand and waved it in the air.

A flash of Spiritual Qi swept by, and a semi-transparent roster appeared in the air—[Eastern Wasteland Chen Family · Technology Workshop Personnel Directory].

The light screen scrolled, and a new line of text appeared:

[Chen Qiaoshou | Entry Key Activated | Authorization Rank: Elementary Artisan]

The sunlight shone right on that line of text, and the three characters "Chen Qiaoshou" glimmered slightly.

He turned to face the crowd, his voice rising, "From today on, Chen Qiaoshou is a member of our Technology Workshop!"

The crowd cheered immediately.

Some whistled, some slapped their thighs, and a few young apprentices jumped up in excitement.

The guards high-fived each other, and the veteran artisans nodded, as if a new member hadn't arrived, but rather their own child had earned a prestigious title.

Chen Qiaoshou stood where he was, clutching the chip tightly in his hand until his knuckles turned white.

He lowered his head and could see the tips of his worn-out cloth shoes, as well as the scorched substrate on the ground.

Just a moment ago, it had been lying there all alone, but now it seemed to have found a home.

The wind blew across the high platform, kicking up a few fragments.

Chen Wuwang stood at the very front, his back to the sun, his shadow cast long.

Chen Xiaodao leaned in close to Chen Qiaoshou and whispered, "I'll take you to get your toolbox in a bit."

Chen Tiezhu silently took out the registration book, turned to a blank page, and picked up a pen to write the three characters "Chen Qiaoshou"; the ink was heavy, and not a single stroke was crooked.

No one moved.

They were still standing on the high platform, the hustle and bustle all around had not yet faded, and the light and shadows intertwined as if a ceremony had just concluded.

The chip lay quietly in the young man's palm, its edges warmed by his body temperature.