307: Chapter 307 The Stunning Demonstration of the Exhibition

The roar of metal cutters still echoed over the ruins of the Eastern District; the crane's arm had just moved the last piece of rusted iron, and the dust cleared from the foundation had yet to settle.

Chen Tiezhu crouched by the Energy Pylon on the south side, one hand on the control lever and the other wiping the grime from his face as he looked up at the sky.

The sun was just right, high in the sky.

"That's about it," he muttered, pressing the button in his palm.

Buzz—

A low vibration came from beneath the ground, and the foundation piles of the double-layered protective barrier lit up one by one with pale green light patterns, spreading out like a spider web.

The vents slowly opened, and the clash of cold air and heat currents steamed up a layer of mist.

The floor tiles of the central display stage were finished being pieced together, as flat as a mirror, reflecting the giant flowing light screen overhead—

A waterfall of psionic energy code was flowing silently, as strings of runes reorganized, decomposed, and regenerated in the Void Realm.

Chen Xiaodao stood outside the control cabin of Mecha No. 016, his fingertips sliding across the joint torque calibration panel one last time.

The values were stable, with zero fluctuation.

"It's done," he said in a low voice, withdrawing his hand.

Just then, the sound of footsteps came from the entrance of the passage.

An Elder of the Chuanyun Sect entered first, leaning on a cane, his long robes trailing on the ground and his nose in the air, not even glancing at the display stage.

"I heard the Chen family set up an exhibition of iron lumps? I thought it was some workshop selling off defective products before going bankrupt."

Several Disciples behind him followed with a laugh: "Can tin cans even be called Magic Treasures? They aren't as practical as a single Flying Sword."

A young Cultivator from the Leiyin Pavilion sneered: "I think they're afraid we'll find out they're illegally mining Spiritual Veins, so they're intentionally making some noise to divert our attention."

Before the words had even finished, the crowd suddenly went quiet.

Chen Wuwang stepped out from the side corridor, his silver hair tied in a high ponytail, his left Mechanical Prosthetic Eye rotating slightly, and the three claw marks on his right cheek clearly visible in the sunlight.

He wore no armor, only a black combat suit, with the dagger at his waist unsheathed; his pace was not fast, yet it suppressed the noise of the entire venue.

He stepped onto the display stage and stood still.

The wind swept across the tin roof, swirling up a few pieces of debris.

"Today," he began, his voice not loud but every word clear, "the Chen family will not perform Divine Abilities, nor will we battle with Spells." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, "We will only display—the power of industry."

No one clapped.

Only the wind moved a nameplate with a clinking sound.

Chen Xiaodao glanced at him and raised his hand to press the start button.

In an instant, three mechas opened their eyes in sync.

Ethereal blue data streams flashed in their pupils, faint white steam puffed from the shoulder vents, the hydraulic System clicked softly, and the mechanical bodies slowly stood up, their movements as synchronized as mirror images without a hint of lag.

"This..." The representative of the West Desert Sand Clan stared wide-eyed, "They're moving on their own?"

"It's not weapon manipulation?" The Cangling Clan Chief murmured, "There's no spiritual consciousness guidance?"

Chen Xiaodao ignored them, his fingers lightly swiping across the terminal.

The first phase of the demonstration began.

Marching in unison.

The three mechas moved forward side-by-side; with every step, their feet landed precisely within the preset circles of light on the ground, with an error of less than half a finger's width.

The frequency of their steps was perfectly consistent, and even the vibration waveforms overlapped.

"More stable than controlling a sword," someone couldn't help but whisper.

Turning in place at a ninety-degree angle, clean and crisp; jumping over obstacles, leaping over a three-meter-high simulated wall, landing silently.

"If this were a war, wouldn't they not even need to adjust their formation?" A young man from the Beipo Liu Clan stood with his mouth agape.

Second phase—offense and defense simulation.

No. 001 swung its arm to block, a virtual energy shell exploded with a roar, and the armor remained unscathed;

No. 007's shoulder cannon fired seven consecutive Psionic Rounds, the trajectory automatically correcting, all hitting the high-speed moving target;

No. 016 deployed its back folding wings, hovering at low altitude to complete a 360-degree rotating scan; the radar waves swept across the venue, even flagging the fluctuations of Communication Talismans hidden in corners.

"Holy crap!" A Leiyin Pavilion Disciple suddenly clutched his chest, "My talisman... why did it suddenly fail?"

"It didn't fail," the person next to him said, his face changing, "it was jammed."

Third phase—triangular synergistic formation.

The three mechas rotated back-to-back, forming a dynamic protective circle while simultaneously releasing electromagnetic interference waves.

The transmission talismans on three Foundation Establishment Cultivators at the scene burst with sparks one after another, rendered useless on the spot.

The entire venue was in an uproar.

"What kind of method is this?!"

"No incantations, no hand Seals, it all relies on the machine's own calculations?"

"They said they've mass-produced three hundred... is that for real?"

Chen Wuwang remained standing, silent.

Until the last command was executed, the three mechas returned to their positions and stood silently, like ancient divine weapons returning to their Seal.

He turned, preparing to leave.

"Are you done watching? Then the show's over."

Just as he moved, a voice came from behind him.

"Wait!"

The Cangling Clan Chief took a trembling step forward: "These... were they really built by you? They weren't dug up from some ruins?"

Chen Tiezhu walked out from the energy zone, still clutching the control lever, the grease on his face unwiped: "Every single screw was tightened by the hands of the Eastern Wasteland Alliance technicians."

He gave a cold laugh, "Don't believe it? You can take them apart and look; I've even posted the blueprints on the wall."

The West Desert Sand Clan representative couldn't help himself, rushing to the edge of the stage in a few steps and reaching out to touch No. 007's shoulder armor.

A slight vibration came from his fingertips, along with residual warmth.

"This isn't a dead object..." He looked up, his eyes shining, "This is a new rule of war!"

"If one had a squad of such mechas, who below the Golden Core stage could stop them?"

"Can they really mass-produce them? Three hundred? Five hundred? What about ten thousand?"

The discussion grew louder, and the gazes shifted from skepticism to fervor, from indifference to greed.

The Chuanyun Sect Elder's face turned ashen, his cane thumping the ground: "Absurd! A body forged from mortal iron, how can it fight in place of a Cultivator? Sooner or later, it will be split into scrap metal by a single Thunder Talisman!"

"Then why don't you try splitting one?" Chen Xiaodao retorted coldly, standing by the control cabin with his hand still on the terminal. "I can turn it on right now; you throw a Thunder Talisman, and I'll have it dodge on its own."

The Elder was choked up, his beard trembling.

Chen Wuwang stopped in his tracks but did not look back.

The crowd swarmed forward, layer upon layer, blocking the exit.

"Head of the Chen Family!" An Elder of the Northern Plains Sun Clan cupped his hands, "May I ask if these mechas are for sale?"

"What about cooperation? How about sharing the technology?"

"We are willing to exchange Spiritual Vein shares for observation rights!"

"Let's not talk about that yet." The head of the Nangu Lin Family stared at the serial number etched on No. 001's chest plate, "I want to know—will they really not break?"

Chen Tiezhu sneered: "Break? Of course they will. But if they break, they can be replaced with new ones immediately. Unlike some people, who die and can't even find their souls."

Chen Xiaodao stood where he was, watching the boiling crowd before him, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.

Chen Wuwang finally turned around, standing at the edge of the stage, his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye scanning face after face.

There was shock, wariness, resentment, and also naked desire.

He didn't speak.

He just raised his hand and pressed it lightly.

The light screen behind him suddenly switched.

It was no longer a waterfall of Psionic Code.

But a holographic projection of a complete assembly line: energy-conducting rails running, mechanical arms assembling, spirit cores being embedded, armor closing—and finally, a brand-new mecha stepping off the production line, numbered 001.

The image froze.

"See that?" His voice was low, "This is just the beginning."

As his voice fell, the crowd went silent.

Chen Tiezhu stood in the technical zone on the east side, his fingers still on the energy control lever, staring at those faces that had once mocked them, a grin spreading across his face.

Chen Xiaodao's hands left the control panel, his gaze falling on the shoulder cannon of Mecha No. 016, where the heat from the previous firing still lingered.

The discussions all around did not cease, and footsteps did not stop; representatives from various parties either moved closer to the stage to examine the structure or tried to squeeze to the front to speak with Chen Wuwang.

Chen Wuwang stood there, the wind blowing the hem of his clothes.

The fingertips of his right hand began to tap lightly on the outside of his thigh, once, then twice.

The rhythm was steady.

As if calculating something.

And as if waiting for something.

In the distance, the first ray of the setting sun shone into the exhibition hall, falling on the pupil of Mecha No. 001, reflecting a speck of ethereal blue light.