280: Chapter 280 Examining the Existing Production Line

Morning light slanted from the high platform into the main aisle of the workshop, the metal floor shimmering with a faint reflection.

Chen Qiaoshou was still standing in the same spot; the edges of the silver-gray chip in his hand had been warmed by his body temperature, and his palms were slightly sweaty.

He looked down, his fingertips tracing over the four characters for "Access Key," and then slowly tucked it into the tool pouch at his waist.

His movements were light, yet steady.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and landing on the roaring assembly line in the distance.

The energy conduction rails flashed with blue light, the transport array hummed and vibrated, and the heat waves spewing from the furnace mouth distorted the air.

The rune engraving machine clattered as it operated, and the detection array occasionally burst with a string of spiritual consciousness sparks.

The entire line was like an Iron Beast, exhausted yet still running, panting heavily as it barely maintained its rhythm.

He took a step.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, walking forward step by step.

The apprentices automatically cleared a path. No one spoke; all that could be heard was the sound of his boot soles hitting the metal plates—clack, clack, clack—like some sort of countdown.

Chen Tiezhu stood in front of the No. 3 furnace observation window, clutching a register in his arms, his pen uncapped and hanging over the paper.

He watched the figure approaching, his brows furrowing tighter and tighter. The way this kid walked didn't look like a newcomer; it looked more like he was here to find faults.

He muttered under his breath, "Putting on airs the moment he walks in, does he really think he's the Chief Engineer?"

He didn't keep his voice down, and two old craftsmen nearby heard it. They exchanged glances but didn't respond.

Chen Wuwang stood in the back of the central aisle, his arms hanging naturally at his sides.

His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickered slightly, a blue light scanning across the various nodes of the assembly line, while data streams scrolled deep within his consciousness.

He didn't move or speak, simply staring at Chen Qiaoshou's back, as if waiting for the answer to an exam.

Chen Qiaoshou stopped in front of the first section of the energy conduction rails.

He didn't reach out to touch the control panel, but instead squatted down, his fingertips gently tracing the edge of the rail.

There was a ring of tiny carbonization marks there, left behind by long-term overloading.

"The circuit density is too high here," he said, his voice not loud but clear enough. "Poor heat dissipation; it will definitely overload if run continuously for three hours."

No one responded.

He stood up and continued walking forward. The second section was the furnace discharge port.

A blast of high-temperature air hit his face; he squinted slightly but didn't stop his pace. His gaze swept over the diverter valve, noticing a slight sluggishness in its movement.

"The diverter valve response is delayed by half a breath," he added. "Energy is accumulating in Zone B. Was this where the last furnace explosion started?"

Chen Tiezhu looked up sharply, "Did you check the records?"

"No need to check," Chen Qiaoshou replied without turning his head. "The color of the interface solder joints is wrong; they were patched up afterward."

He walked to the rune engraving machine and stopped. The machine was engraving defensive runes onto a batch of mech arms; the cutter head was visibly worn, and the engraved lines varied in depth.

"The engraving knife hasn't been calibrated in three days, has it?" he asked.

The operator was a young apprentice who paused for a moment before nodding, "Yesterday... it was changed once, but the results weren't great."

"It's not that the results aren't great; the reference point has shifted by 0.2 degrees."

Chen Qiaoshou gestured in the air, "You are using old calibration molds. The expansion coefficient of the new batch of Materials has changed; you need to recalibrate the parameters."

The apprentice opened his mouth but couldn't find any words.

Chen Qiaoshou continued walking. In front of the detection array, a newly finished mech was being scanned. A spiritual consciousness beam swept over it, and the System emitted a "beep," indicating "Energy circuit stable."

He sneered, "Still using old-fashioned spiritual consciousness scanning? This kind can only see the surface. The inner resonance waves are already chaotic; haven't you felt it yourselves?"

The operator's face flushed, "The System regulations... only allow for this kind of inspection."

"Regulations are rigid," Chen Qiaoshou finally turned around and looked behind him. "But if the mech goes to the battlefield, the enemy won't fight according to your regulations."

When these words fell, the entire workshop went silent for a few seconds.

Chen Tiezhu could no longer stand still. He strode out, his heels clanging loudly against the metal floor, and blocked Chen Qiaoshou's path in a few steps.

"What do you know?" His voice was kept very low, but his anger couldn't be hidden. "This line has supported seven major campaigns; ninety percent of the mechs in the Cultivation World come from here! You say it's outdated, so it's outdated?"

Chen Qiaoshou didn't retreat, nor was he angry. He looked at the man in front of him, who had a stubbly face and bloodshot eyes, and nodded, "I know it has rendered meritorious service."

He paused, then added, "But now it is old; it is time for an upgrade."

"Upgrade?" Chen Tiezhu sneered. "You, someone who survives by picking parts from scrap heaps, what do you know about mass production? What do you know about stability? Do you know how many nights I've stayed up to tune this line? My wife—"

He stopped abruptly. The rest of his words didn't come out, but everyone could hear the pent-up tension.

Chen Wuwang moved at this moment. He stepped forward and placed one hand gently on Chen Tiezhu's shoulder; the force was not great, but it prevented him from moving another step forward.

"Let him look," Chen Wuwang said, his voice calm. "I remember every word you said."

He looked at Chen Qiaoshou, his gaze steady, "Continue."

Chen Qiaoshou glanced at him, then at Chen Tiezhu, said nothing, and turned to continue walking forward.

The last section was the finished product storage area. Dozens of mechs awaiting inspection were lined up in two rows, like silent soldiers.

He walked to the mech on the very edge, squatted down, and his fingers touched the circuit board at the energy interface. There was a tiny crack there, almost invisible.

His fingertips traced along the crack, and his brows furrowed. "Did you use recycled alloy for the interface substrate?" he asked.

No one answered.

He looked up at Chen Tiezhu, "This kind of Materials cannot withstand more than three charges; once it explodes on the battlefield, it causes a chain reaction. You dare to use it?"

Chen Tiezhu gritted his teeth, "There aren't enough Materials! The wartime quota is strictly controlled; we can only—"

"Then don't blame me for telling the truth," Chen Qiaoshou interrupted him. "This line is still running now because people are carrying it. But people get tired, make mistakes, and die. You aren't building mechs; you are gambling with lives."

The air suddenly tightened. Several old craftsmen's expressions were grim, and the apprentices lowered their heads, not daring to look.

Chen Tiezhu's fists clenched until they cracked, and the register was creased from his grip. But he couldn't refute it, because everything this kid said was the truth.

Chen Wuwang stood between the two, the blue light of his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye slowly extinguishing. He wasn't looking at the data, only at Chen Qiaoshou's back.

That figure was not tall, nor sturdy, and was even a bit thin. Yet, squatting there beside the mech, he was like an iron stake driven into the ground, motionless.

He knew that this kid hadn't said everything. Those deeper problems—unreasonable energy distribution, insufficient module redundancy, missing feedback mechanisms—he hadn't mentioned them at all.

It wasn't that he didn't understand; it was that he was holding back. This was a test, and also a form of respect.

The corners of Chen Wuwang's mouth moved imperceptibly. He spoke, his voice not loud, but loud enough for everyone to hear, "How much longer do you think it can last?"

Chen Qiaoshou didn't turn around. He remained squatting, his fingers still resting on the crack in the circuit board. The wind blew through the workshop, whipping up a few metal shards.

He finally spoke, three words: "Three months."

Chen Tiezhu looked up sharply, his eyes looking like he wanted to eat someone. But Chen Wuwang just stood quietly, like a mountain.

Chen Qiaoshou slowly stood up, patted the dust off his hands, and looked toward the end of the assembly line.

There, the last mech was slowly moving out, the blue light of the energy conduction rails flickering, like an old bell striking its final toll.

He didn't speak again. Chen Wuwang didn't urge him either. In the workshop, only the humming of the machines and the heavy breathing of the three remained.

Chen Qiaoshou stood at the very end of the finished product area, the chip in his hand already put away, and was squatting down to inspect the energy interface of a mech awaiting inspection. His fingertips traced the crack on the circuit board, his eyes sharp, at the critical point of deep technical analysis.