Subversion

The design schematics had been created by Zero. Fearing that these blueprints might reveal too much, Zhong Yun dared not save them on his personal computer, choosing instead to commit them forcibly to memory. Fortunately, ever since he had acquired his core energy, his memory had improved by leaps and bounds, and the diagrams themselves were not complicated.

He adjusted his breathing, bringing his body and mind into optimal condition. Beside him, the two elderly men watched intently, their faces taut with anticipation, infected by the seriousness etched on his own. The atmosphere grew heavy; even Huang Jian, who was in the middle of a phone call, felt the oppressive aura, his fingers pausing mid-dial.

Suddenly, Zhong Yun opened his eyes, which glimmered with a faint violet light, making him appear rather daunting. He picked up a metal component about half the size of a fist and deftly disassembled it. The B-grade mechanic nearby winced in pain—this was the most advanced transformer currently available from Titan Machinery Group, worth seventy-eight thousand Davor coins.

He’d seen wastefulness before, but never to such an extent. The B-grade mechanic ground his teeth in frustration.

With despair in his eyes, he watched as Zhong Yun picked up another part—the latest model of energy divider, valued at over a million. Piece after piece, the expensive components were casually dismantled. Huang Jian’s heart bled at the sight; as a B-grade mechanic, his attachment to machinery was as deep as one might feel for a spouse. It was this passion, this devotion, that had propelled him to B-grade status by the age of thirty.

Now, seeing his “spouses” abused so wantonly and powerless to intervene, he was overcome by a grief he could hardly put into words.

Zhong Yun, however, had no time to concern himself with the “sentimental” mechanic. His full attention was on his work. With the powerful assistance of the “manual auxiliary device,” he assembled the machine smoothly. The entire process took less than ten minutes.

“Done.”

Securing the final screw, Zhong Yun removed his helmet and exhaled deeply. He then stripped off his work suit. Although the suit had a built-in air circulation system and never felt stifling, it was never truly comfortable to wear.

The three onlookers could not help but stare at the machine. It was cubic, about one meter high. Though assembled from several metal casings, its surface was flawless and smooth—no sign of seams to be found.

Huang Jian had watched the entire process from start to finish. Apart from the pain of seeing expensive components sacrificed, he felt only deep contempt. The kid didn’t understand any of this—he was just wasting things. Could a condenser be connected directly to an oscillator? He lacked even basic common sense yet dared to attempt assembly.

Huang Jian’s resentment toward the brash youth burned intensely—hatred for his ignorance, hatred for his wastefulness.

If only he’d been given all those fine materials to assemble himself… What a fool the kid was.

Still, Zhong Yun’s manual skills surprised him. For someone so young to display such workmanship was rare. Yet, this could not redeem his impression.

“What is this thing for?” Old Master Huang finally seized the chance to ask, unable to contain his curiosity.

“One moment,” Zhong Yun replied, squatting down to connect the fresh machine to a power source. In this age, electricity was a thing of the past, replaced by energy waves—more efficient and safer.

Realizing he was about to activate the machine, Huang Jian panicked. If that contraption was powered up, it would surely explode. “Don’t—” He barely got a word out before a suffocating pressure seized his chest, choking off the rest.

The indicator light came on. Huang Jian, terrified, instinctively covered his head and dove to the ground. The anticipated explosion did not come. Instead, the youth’s voice sounded, “Whew, it worked on the first try.”

Stunned, he looked up. Indeed, the unknown machine was powered on, the indicator lit. With over a decade’s experience, he could tell from the faint sounds of moving components inside that the machine was running.

He was utterly perplexed.

The way that kid had connected the parts was sheer lunacy—dangerous enough to be deadly. No matter how stable the advanced components, they couldn’t possibly withstand such reckless assembly.

Connecting a condenser to an oscillator was hazardous enough, but to link a wave concentrator and particle accelerator as well—was he courting death?

Such combinations were strictly forbidden in the textbooks. His old mentor had warned him countless times never to randomly connect different devices, for the dangers could be catastrophic.

Yet here it was: the machine was running, not only without exploding but operating smoothly.

This defied everything he thought he knew.

Meanwhile, Zhong Yun was explaining to Old Master Huang, who was holding a recorder and burning with curiosity. “This device mainly generates a specific frequency of waves. These waves stimulate biological cells, causing them to mutate.”

“What kind of wave is it? What frequency? Can it really revive withered plants?” Old Master Huang seized the opportunity, firing off questions in quick succession.

Zhong Yun hesitated before replying, “These are Qifa waves. Of course, they can’t bring withered plants back to life.” He deliberately failed to mention the frequency.

Old Master Huang, catching only the latter part, pressed on, “Then—”

“What did you just say?” Yang Siqing, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke, fixing Zhong Yun with a steely gaze. The aura of a true master radiated from him. “You promised you would save my Qingqing.”

Zhong Yun felt the air around him tighten, an intangible pressure pinning him down, making it hard to breathe. “Brother, please let me finish,” he managed to squeeze out with great difficulty. The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

“If you can’t give me a reasonable explanation…” The murderous look in Yang Siqing’s eyes told Zhong Yun he was not joking.

This guy is way too violent, Zhong Yun thought to himself.

“Qifa waves may not revive plants,” Zhong Yun continued, “but they can reawaken the latent vitality of naturally withered Crystal Rose.”

Old Master Huang was confused. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Zhong Yun smiled faintly, as if instructing an eager student. “That’s because you’re unfamiliar with the habits of Crystal Rose.”

If anyone from the Flower Association had heard this, they would have laughed themselves silly. That a boy barely in his teens would say to Old Master Huang, “You don’t understand the habits of the Crystal Rose.”

Who was Old Master Huang? One of the nation’s preeminent floral experts. Even the most arrogant members of the Flower Association addressed him respectfully as ‘Master.’

Yet here was a mere youngster daring to lecture him so brazenly.

Stranger still, Old Master Huang looked all ears, entirely unbothered at being schooled by someone several generations his junior.

P.S. It’s Sunday again, just four days left on the new author rankings. At midnight tonight, I’ll be releasing two chapters in a row. To those still here, please vote for me!