281: Chapter 281 Chen Qiaoshou's Evaluation

Chen Qiaoshou stood up and brushed the dust off his hands.

He glanced at the cracks in the mecha, then looked at Chen Wuwang and Chen Tiezhu.

Sunlight shone in, making the ground bright, and his shadow stretched out long.

"It's too backward," he said. "It needs to be changed."

Upon hearing this, Chen Tiezhu immediately looked up and rushed forward a step, nearly bumping into him. "What did you say?"

"I said, this line won't last three months," Chen Qiaoshou said without moving. "The heat dissipation is poor, the flow distribution is poor, and the calibration is also poor. The Materials are also substandard. It's all relying on human effort to hold it together. This isn't Artifact Refining; it's risking your life."

"What do you know!" Chen Tiezhu roared. "I've worked here for seven years! The mechas for the Seven Great Battles were all produced this way! You're just a scrap collector, what right do you have to talk? If you're so good, you do it!"

He was clutching the registration book, his knuckles white, his eyes red, looking as if he wanted to eat someone.

Chen Qiaoshou didn't speak, just looked at him.

The two men stood motionless, neither giving an inch.

At this moment, a hand rested on Chen Tiezhu's shoulder.

The grip wasn't strong, but it was steady.

It was Chen Wuwang. He walked between the two of them, his prosthetic eye flashing with a blue light before dimming. He didn't look at the data, only at Chen Qiaoshou.

"Old Uncle," he said in a low voice, "let him try."

Chen Tiezhu turned his head sharply. "You—"

"We trust him," Chen Wuwang interrupted. "Whatever he says to change, we change."

Chen Tiezhu's lips trembled, and he wanted to say more, but seeing Chen Wuwang's gaze, he swallowed his words back.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and finally flicked his sleeve, stepped back, and said nothing more.

The workshop was very quiet. There was only the sound of machines, and the wind blowing a few pieces of scrap metal, causing them to fall to the ground.

Chen Qiaoshou glanced at Chen Wuwang, then at Chen Tiezhu, without saying much more.

He walked to the toolbox, squatted down, pulled open the bottom drawer, and took out a sketching board and a spirit-pattern pen from a pile of parts.

He blew the dust off the board and flipped to the first page.

The paper was white.

He gripped the pen with his right hand, touched the paper surface with his left, and paused in the top left corner, as if he had decided where to make the first stroke.

Chen Tiezhu stood three steps away, staring at him intently.

There was anger in his eyes, defiance, and also a hint of worry.

He didn't believe this young man could change anything, but he was also afraid... what if it actually worked?

Then what would his seven years count for?

He looked down at the registration book; the corners had already been indented by his fingernails.

Chen Wuwang took a step back, crossed his arms, and stood behind the walkway.

He didn't speak, just watched.

He knew this matter wasn't simple.

This wasn't just changing a part; it was changing the rules.

Moving from relying on human experience to relying on System management.

He knew Chen Tiezhu was having a hard time.

But someone had to walk the path first.

Chen Qiaoshou looked down at the sketching board, his breathing steady.

He didn't draw immediately; he closed his eyes for a moment, running through the entire assembly line in his mind: how much power the energy conduit rails consumed, whether the furnace valves were slow to react, how long the engraving machine had been wearing down, where the detection array couldn't see...

These problems weren't isolated.

They were all broken together.

To fix them, there had to be major changes.

He opened his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. It wasn't a smile, nor was it smugness; it was just the feeling that it could succeed.

He raised his hand, the tip of the pen hovering half an inch above the paper, and paused.

Then, he put the pen to paper.

The first stroke drew the structure of the energy center.

The lines were clean, with nothing superfluous.

Chen Tiezhu's pupils constricted.

He had never seen this way of drawing before.

It didn't look like runes, nor did it look like blueprints; it looked more like a new way of writing.

Every line had meaning, and every point was marked with a number.

He couldn't understand it.

But he could feel it—this diagram made sense. It wasn't random drawing.

Chen Wuwang's prosthetic eye flashed with blue light, scanning the diagram, automatically recording the first stroke.

He didn't interrupt, nor did he offer any evaluation, just twitched the corners of his mouth slightly.

He knew things had changed.

The gears had started turning.

Chen Qiaoshou didn't stop his pen, continuing to draw the second part: the heat dissipation module for the energy conduit rails.

As he drew, he said, "Three-level circuits, closed-loop control, thermal energy recovery can improve by forty percent."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible in the quiet workshop.

Chen Tiezhu was taken aback.

"Closed-loop control"? He had heard this term; it was something Chen Wuwang had mentioned. He had always thought it was just a figure of speech, never expecting it could actually be used.

He opened his mouth to ask, but held back.

Asking now would make him look ignorant.

Chen Qiaoshou continued drawing the third part: intelligent regulation of the furnace valves.

As he drew, he wrote: "AI predicts energy peaks, distributes flow in advance, avoiding blockages in Zone B."

"AI?" Chen Tiezhu couldn't help asking. "What's that?"

Chen Qiaoshou stopped his pen, looked up at him, and said, "It's a System that can learn and adjust itself. It doesn't need people to watch over it; it can run stably on its own."

"Nonsense!" Chen Tiezhu shouted. "Machines can learn? And move on their own? It's not a person!"

"It's not a person," Chen Qiaoshou said, "but it can be more precise than a person."

"You—"

"Old Uncle," Chen Wuwang spoke up, "let him finish."

Chen Tiezhu felt a breath stuck in his chest, his face flushed red. He glared at Chen Qiaoshou, wishing he could nail him to the wall.

But Chen Qiaoshou had already lowered his head and continued to draw the fourth part: the self-calibration module for the engraving machine.

He drew quickly, the lines were precise, as if he had already thought it all out and was just putting it on paper.

As Chen Tiezhu watched, he suddenly realized—he could understand a little bit of it.

Not everything, but the key parts, like how the energy flowed and how it was controlled, were actually starting to connect.

His heart gave a jolt.

This kid... wasn't just bragging.

He really knew his stuff.

But he still felt unconvinced.

Why? A newcomer, coming here and immediately wanting to overturn his seven years of hard work?

He clenched his fists again.

Chen Wuwang noticed his emotions were off, turned his head to look at him, didn't speak, and just shook his head slightly.

The meaning was: wait a little longer.

Chen Qiaoshou turned the page and started drawing the fifth part: upgrading the detection array. He paused for a moment and looked up at the pile of mechas waiting for inspection.

"Current inspections can only see the surface," he said. "But the problems are hidden inside. Once they charge up on the battlefield, they explode in batches."

His voice lowered slightly: "I don't want anyone to die on the battlefield because of a wire that shouldn't have exploded."

After these words, the workshop became even quieter.

Even the sound of the machines seemed to soften.

Chen Tiezhu was stunned.

He remembered that furnace explosion seven years ago—a mecha exploded during a test flight, and the pilot was seriously injured. They investigated for a long time afterward, saying it was a Materials issue, but no one knew exactly what had broken.

If they had had this kind of inspection back then...

His throat moved, but he didn't speak.

Chen Wuwang looked at Chen Qiaoshou's back, his gaze calm.

He knew this person wasn't doing it to show off.

He genuinely wanted to do a good job.

The sketching board was turned to the sixth page, and Chen Qiaoshou drew the final part: the interconnected structure of the entire System. He quickly drew the connecting lines between the four parts—energy, production, inspection, and maintenance—marking the data direction on each line.

"The entire line needs to be like a living thing," he said. "It should be able to discover problems itself, adjust its own pace, and speed itself up."

"A living thing?" Chen Tiezhu sneered. "Do you think you're raising a pet?"

"It's not raising," Chen Qiaoshou looked up at him. "It's making it follow human commands, not making people serve it."

Chen Tiezhu couldn't say anything.

He still wanted to argue, but looking at those dense yet clearly defined diagrams, his anger slowly subsided.

He suddenly realized—he could no longer keep up with this world.

Chen Wuwang didn't speak again, walked forward two steps, and stood half a step behind Chen Qiaoshou. He looked down at the blueprints, his prosthetic eye flashing with blue light, automatically analyzing whether each stroke could be implemented.

He knew that this change could not be stopped.

Chen Qiaoshou put down his pen, having finished the last stroke.

He took a deep breath, closed the sketching board, and looked up at Chen Wuwang: "These are my ideas. Whether they work or not, we'll only know after we try."

Chen Wuwang looked at him and nodded: "From today on, this line is yours to command."

Chen Qiaoshou didn't smile, nor was he excited. He tucked his pen back into his waist, secured the sketching board, and turned to walk toward an empty table in the depths of the workshop.

He pulled out a chair, sat down, and opened the sketching board.

The tip of the pen hovered over the paper, and he paused.

Then, he put the pen to paper.