299: Chapter 299 Chen Qiaoshou's Continued Improvement

The morning light had just suppressed the gray of the horizon, and the metal corridors still shimmered with a cold glint.

The smell of rust mixed with burnt circuitry hadn't fully dissipated from the air. The bloodstains in the bottom grooves of the guide rails had dried, making them a bit slippery to step on.

Chen Qiaoshou walked with his head down, his boots crushing a piece of wreckage as his toe kicked a broken half of a drive arm.

He stopped, squatted down, and tapped twice on the twisted alloy with his knuckles.

"Pure mechanical transmission... too slow, and too fragile."

His voice wasn't loud, as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps providing an explanation for what happened last night.

He stared at the break for two seconds; there was no panic or fear in his eyes, only a sunken, ruthless determination.

He knew the enemy had chosen these specific places to strike—the energy rail joints, the shunt valve hubs, and the blind spots of the detection arrays.

All of them were the lifeblood of an old System that relied on manual inspections and experiential judgment.

But what if the entire line came to life?

He stood up, fished a chip out of his sleeve, and with a flick of his thumb, a projection popped out.

A semi-transparent blueprint unfolded in the air. A circular energy conduction groove ran through the workshop model, with seven Psionic Resonance Points flashing blue light. A note beside them read: "Estimated efficiency increase of 40%-65%."

He stared at the diagram for a moment, put away the chip, quickened his pace, and headed straight for the Family Head's office.

At the end of the corridor, before the door was even pushed open, light leaked out from within.

The holographic screen on the wall was frozen on a surveillance frame: the moment a dark figure welded in a Rune Nail, the movements were precise, as if rehearsed countless times.

Chen Wuwang stood with his back to the door, his long silver-white hair tied behind his head. His left Mechanical Prosthetic Eye emitted a faint blue glow, and the three claw marks on his right cheek appeared exceptionally deep under the cold light.

He didn't move or turn around; his entire being was like a string pulled to its limit.

Chen Qiaoshou stood at the door, not daring to enter directly.

He knew what had happened last night—the Family Head had kicked the console to pieces, split a guide rail with a single blade strike, and left three corpses lying on the floor, with a note that simply said "Wait."

But he also knew the Family Head wasn't mad. Those repeated blade strikes weren't a loss of control; they were drawing a line.

He stood at the door for five seconds before raising his hand to knock.

"Enter." The voice was low but sharp.

Chen Qiaoshou pushed the door open and closed it behind him.

He walked to the desk, inserted the chip into the interface, and the projection unfolded once more.

"Family Head," he began, his voice steadier than one would expect from someone who had just walked through a workshop full of wreckage. "I'm not asking for an immediate repair. I only want to ask one thing—are we repairing it back to how it was, or... building something they can never blow up again?"

Chen Wuwang slowly turned around.

His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye scanned the blueprint. For three seconds, he said nothing.

Then, the corners of his mouth suddenly curled up.

"Psionic Drive?" he whispered, as if savoring the words. "Saves resources, resists interference, and can even fool low-level detection... They think we're repairing scrap metal, but in reality, we're already replacing the heart."

He raised his hand and slammed it onto the desk with a "thud," making the projection tremble.

"Approved! Whatever people or materials you need, go directly through the Special Grade Channel. Tell them I authorized it."

Chen Qiaoshou's eyes lit up.

"Understood!"

He pulled out the chip, retracted the projection, and bowed, preparing to leave.

As he reached the door, the voice behind him sounded again.

"Wait."

He paused.

Chen Wuwang didn't look at him; his gaze fell on another screen on the wall, which displayed the structural diagram of the Technology Workshop. Red dots marked the seven locations destroyed last night.

"Don't just think about speed," he said, his voice dropping. "What I want is stability and ruthlessness. I want it so that the next time they come—they won't even know where to bomb."

Chen Qiaoshou looked back.

He stood at the doorway, with light and shadow split across his face—half illuminated, half hidden in the dark.

"Understood," he said, his voice even harder than before. "This time, we won't hide the core. We'll make the entire line... become the core."

With those words, he turned.

The door closed.

He walked along the alloy corridor toward the Technology Workshop, his pace getting faster and faster. He gripped the chip in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The guide rails were still vibrating slightly. The scanning beams of the patrol Puppets swept over his head, and the warning lights still flashed yellow.

But he no longer cared about any of that.

His mind was entirely filled with that diagram—the circular energy conduction groove, the seven resonance points, and the positions of the AI control modules.

He had even begun to think about which guide rail to start the first phase of the modification on, and which Psionic Coupling Material would be the most stable.

As he passed the accident zone, his pace didn't falter, but his gaze swept over the charred control box, and his lips moved slightly.

"Next time... there won't be a place like this anymore."

He continued forward.

Ahead, the heavy doors of the Technology Workshop hadn't fully opened yet, but light was already leaking from inside. Mecha maintenance arms moved slowly on their tracks, and the detection arrays emitted a faint hum.

He reached out and swiped his keycard across the access panel.

"Beep—Identity confirmed: Chen Qiaoshou. Permission level: Special Grade Technician. Access authorized."

The doors slowly opened.

A cold wind blew out from within, carrying the scent of metal and energy fluid.

He stepped inside.

Behind him, the lights in the Family Head's office remained on.

Chen Wuwang stood by the window, watching the figure disappear into the workshop entrance.

He didn't move or speak.

A moment later, he raised his right hand and tapped lightly in the air.

The holographic map on the wall instantly switched. The Technology Workshop area was enlarged, and dozens of data streams began to scroll. One path marked in red was slowly extending—

It was precisely the path of the circular energy conduction groove from Chen Qiaoshou's blueprint.

He stared at that red line for a long time.

Then, he whispered a single sentence:

"It has begun."

Deep in the corridor, Chen Qiaoshou had already reached the main control console.

He inserted the chip into the interface, the projection unfolded again, and his fingers moved rapidly in the air, adjusting the resonance point parameters.

"Modify the seventh section first," he muttered to himself. "The rail's load-bearing capacity is sufficient, there's plenty of space, and it's the easiest to test."

He looked up at the energy pipe network above, his eyes sharp.

"Psionic Drive... it's not just about speed; it's about making this line breathe on its own."

He pressed the record button, and his voice was entered into the System:

"Today's task: Initiate the psionic transformation of the assembly line. Phase one goal—achieve closed-loop energy supply, and increase interference resistance to Grade 3 or higher."

The recording ended. He took off the tool bag from his waist, opened it, and took out a miniature carving knife and a set of Rune Templates.

"Come on," he whispered. "Let them see again what it means to have something they can't break."

He leaned over and began to disassemble the guide rail casing.

Metal screws fell one by one into the tray, making a crisp clinking sound.

The lighting at the top of the workshop suddenly flickered.

He glanced up.

The light stabilized.

He continued his work with his head down, his fingers steady and his movements practiced.

In the distance, an undamaged section of the assembly line was running idle. The mechanical arms swung rhythmically, like breathing.

He glanced at that line and said softly:

"When the day comes for your heart transplant, we'll run together."

Having said that, he lowered his head, pressed the tip of the knife against the inner wall of the guide rail, and began to carve the first Psionic Coupling Vein.