32: Chapter 32 Technological Cultivation, A Fantasy of Spirit Plants

Chen Wuwang stepped into the central control room of the Artifact Refining Workshop, his boot soles grinding against the metal floor, emitting a dull "thud."

The air still held the charred scent of the furnace cooling from last night, mixed with the faint electrical arc aura remaining from the spiritual energy rails.

He didn't stop, heading straight for the main console. His mechanical prosthetic eye lit up with a faint blue pattern in the darkness, and data streams cascaded across his vision like a waterfall.

"Pull up the seven-day operation records of the Medicinal Field," he said in a low voice.

A holographic projection unfurled with a "swish," and a three-dimensional map floated in mid-air: the Spiritual Qi intake curve was steady, the energy closed-loop efficiency was 98.6%, and the self-regulation response time was 0.27 seconds—every item was within the safety threshold, so stable it didn't feel like cultivation, but rather like a standard factory test for a machine.

Chen Tiezhu was crouching in front of an idle cultivation pod, tightening the casing screws with a wrench. Hearing the commotion, he looked up sharply: "Family Head? This early in the morning... Is the Medicinal Field taken care of?"

"Taken care of." Chen Wuwang walked over, flipped it with one hand, and the cultivation pod lid popped open with a "click." "Now, replicate it here."

Chen Tiezhu froze, and the wrench dropped to the ground with a "clang."

"You... you want to install the 'System' into the cultivation pod? This thing is for Artifact Refining! Not for growing plants!"

"What's wrong with growing plants?" Chen Wuwang didn't look up, taking a palm-sized black module from his chest, its surface engraved with dense rune circuits. "Artifact Refining relies on Spiritual Qi for power, and growing medicine also relies on Spiritual Qi to stimulate growth. The System manages the logic of energy circulation; it doesn't distinguish between forging iron or raising seedlings."

"But plant Meridians are irregular, and their growth rhythm is uncontrollable. They aren't like mecha components with standard parameters!" Chen Tiezhu's voice rose. "My wife was backlashed by unstable spiritual currents back then... I don't believe this machine can be more accurate than the human eye!"

Chen Wuwang finally looked up, the three claw marks on his right cheek appearing exceptionally deep under the cold light: "Elder Lin was also afraid of an explosion, but he still let me try. And the result? Three Golden-Veined Spiritual Plants, 99.07% purity, capable of breathing and repairing themselves."

He plugged the module into the main interface of the cultivation pod and quickly entered commands on the control panel: "Now, I want you to see for yourself—what a controllable miracle is."

A few breaths later.

The three seedlings inside the pod suddenly trembled violently. Their leaves expanded and thickened at a speed visible to the naked eye, emitting a faint golden light; their roots burrowed into the cultivation soil like living snakes, moving faster and faster, almost leaving afterimages. The growth progress bar on the control screen soared wildly—one hundred times the normal rate.

Chen Tiezhu took half a step back, his throat bobbing: "This... this shouldn't be possible by human power... The Spiritual Qi fluctuations are so violent, yet there isn't a single trace of dissipation? It didn't even activate the protective shield?"

"Because the System is managing it." Chen Wuwang tapped the screen. "It monitors the energy absorption rate of every single root in real-time and dynamically adjusts the supply. If there's too much, it reclaims it; if there's too little, it supplements it. Look at this feedback loop—doesn't it look like that dual-valve voltage stabilizer you added to the furnace back then? Except, now it's fully automatic."

Chen Tiezhu stared at the screen with complex eyes. He reached out to touch it but pulled back, as if afraid of getting burned.

"You try." Chen Wuwang suddenly switched the control to the secondary terminal and handed it to him. "Increase the feedback gain by 10% and see if it overloads."

"Are you crazy?" Chen Tiezhu glared. "What if it explodes?"

"It won't." Chen Wuwang's tone was calm. "The System has a three-level fuse mechanism. If something really goes wrong, it will self-destruct the module first to protect the pod. Just give the command."

Chen Tiezhu gritted his teeth and took the terminal. His fingertips trembled as he entered the values.

The screen flickered twice, automatically calibrating the load. The growth rate was fine-tuned, the plant's state remained stable, the leaves shone brighter, and golden threads faintly emerged.

His pupils contracted sharply, and his fingers gripped the edge of the terminal tightly.

"See that?" Chen Wuwang sneered. "This isn't relying on the heavens, nor is it praying to immortals and ancestors. This is setting parameters, pressing a button, and waiting to receive the harvest."

The Spiritual Plant inside the pod was nearing maturity. Dewdrops hung from the leaf tips, each one wrapped in a halo of molten gold, identical to the three in the Medicinal Field.

Chen Tiezhu murmured: "Such miraculous effects... Even a Nascent Soul Old Ancestor coming in person couldn't do better, right? Could this truly be the arrival of immortal magic?"

"Immortal magic?" Chen Wuwang turned around abruptly and slammed his palm onto the console. "Have you ever seen any immortal magic that can be mass-replicated? Can change parameters? Can sound an alarm for fault codes?"

He pulled up the underlying interface of the System, and lines of running code scrolled in the air: "Look clearly—this isn't the Heavenly Dao granting food; it's the rules we wrote ourselves. Every rune is an algorithm, and every Spiritual Qi path is a program. It doesn't rely on Comprehension Ability or Bloodline; anyone can learn it, and anyone can use it."

Chen Tiezhu was silent.

He slowly crouched down, his hand resting on the casing of the cultivation pod, his gaze locked on the three Spiritual Plants nearing maturity. The beliefs he had held firmly for years seemed to have been cracked open—he had once thought that heat control relied on touch, spiritual patterns relied on oral transmission, and the soul of an artisan lay in every hammer blow and chisel.

But this System before him turned "feeling" into "data" and "experience" into "formulas."

He suddenly reached out and lightly touched the pod wall, as if confirming it wasn't an illusion.

"Family Head..." his voice was hoarse, "Can this thing... really be given to us to use?"

"Otherwise, would I be keeping it as an offering?" Chen Wuwang twitched the corner of his mouth. "Doesn't your son want to inherit the Dao of Artifact Refining? Tell him that future Artifact Refiners won't just know how to forge iron; they must also know how to program."

Chen Tiezhu looked up sharply, the shock and suspicion in his eyes fading, replaced by a nearly scorching light—the instinctive awe and desire of an artisan facing ultimate craftsmanship.

He stood up and grabbed the toolbox: "Give me five empty pods! I'll modify them right now! I want to see if this System can run ten sets in parallel!"

"No rush." Chen Wuwang raised his hand to stop him. "Run one set stably first. What I want is replicable success, not a life-gambling spectacle."

He paused, his voice lowering: "Once this batch matures, I will take it to negotiate a deal. Those great clans in the Eastern Wasteland have strangled our medicinal supply lifeline for thirty years. This time, it's their turn to bow their heads."

Chen Tiezhu froze, then grinned, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes piling up into gullies: "Good! Then let them see what is—the power of technology!"

Chen Wuwang didn't smile. He stood in the center of the control corridor, his silver hair slightly lifted by the breeze from the vent, the data in his mechanical prosthetic eye still glowing. He knew that this small step was the first tear in the old order.

In the distance, deep within the Artifact Refining Workshop, came the metallic clanging of mecha skeletons being assembled, one beat, then another, like a heartbeat.

He turned, ready to leave.

Just then, the Spirit Array under his feet trembled slightly.

It wasn't an alarm, it wasn't a loss of control, but—the feedback of a completed synchronization.

He looked down, and his mechanical prosthetic eye refreshed with a line of small text: [Spiritual Energy Control System cross-domain verification successful, stability 100%, recommended for deployment to other life cultivation units].

Chen Wuwang paused, looking back at the three Golden-Veined Spiritual Plants.

Their leaves were slowly closing, as if sleeping, or perhaps gathering strength.

He knew this was just the beginning.

The real storm was still to come.

He lifted his foot and stepped out of the control room, his pace steady, his back straight as a spear.

Behind him, Chen Tiezhu crouched in front of the cultivation pod, his hands resting on the control panel, his gaze locked on the stable growth curve on the screen.

He no longer spoke, but the suspicion that had been suppressed for years in his eyes had been shattered, replaced by a complete conviction in the new technological path.

He remained in the Artifact Refining Workshop, not leaving his post.