It didn't take a whole month.
With Ji Jue pitching in, he and Lou Feng brought the new external link module from concept to finished execution in a single week.
Only while getting down to business could Lou Feng truly appreciate that this guy was indeed a bona fide Grandmaster of the Crown of Glory.
He had shown him, in the most vivid and blunt manner possible, what it meant to be Embers' Heaven's Choice—and an absolute material-skimming maniac.
Faced with a design burdened by endless constraints, tedious requirements, and zero precedent to reference, Ji Jue had basically danced square-dancing in heavy shackles, throwing in full splits whenever the mood struck.
He had worked in fits and starts, slacking off and merely dropping by once in a while. Yet he still managed to turn a concept that had existed only on paper into a functional new prototype. Along the way, he optimized the architecture and workflow twice, drastically reducing fabrication difficulty, and then—from a blueprint Lou Feng already considered stripped to the absolute bone—pinched another twelve percent of the materials!
Extreme stinginess yielded extreme cost-effectiveness.
After piecing together a mountain of offcuts and scrap, the resulting product was entirely different from what Lou Feng had originally envisioned. Yet there wasn't the slightest hint of ugliness to it; from the inside out, it exuded a quintessential industrial beauty.
It repeatedly made him wonder: just who on earth had invented a creature like Ji Jue?
He couldn't fathom it at all.
Pity that every time one felt ready to respect him, he opened his mouth.
The second he stopped working, he plummeted from Embers' Heaven's Choice into a stray mutt on the curb. Utterly insufferable.
And what was worse...
"Are you keeping something from me?"
On the very day of Haian's charity event, Ji Jue had just walked into his office when he found Lou Feng—who clearly hadn't slept a wink all night—clutching a new external link module and staring at him gloomily.
Like a ghost.
"What the hell?"
Caught completely off guard, Ji Jue nearly leaped out of his skin, cold sweat prickling at the back of his neck.
Pure fright!
That faintly aggrieved expression almost made him wonder if he had walked onto the wrong movie set. For his business partner to suddenly drop a line like that was no less horrifying than a girlfriend out of nowhere asking: *Are you seeing someone behind my back?*
And was he?
Of course he was!
What else?
Did you actually expect me to be squeaky clean and innocent?
That's precisely why I hate you sharp-sensed Embers brats...
Wait, I'm Embers too? Never mind then.
"What nonsense are you spouting!"
Ji Jue glared, scolding him resolutely. "Every single day I work my fingers to the bone socializing out there—isn't it all for this... *cough*, for this factory? I'm just playing the field with them! You're my overseer, Old Lou! How could you think of me like that!"
"Heh. Whatever you mess around with out there doesn't interest me. If you drop dead in a ditch someday, I wouldn't care either."
Lou Feng raised the external link module in his hand.
Copper gleamed.
"—I'm talking about this."
Someone else might not have noticed, but as the designer of this project, Lou Feng sensed a faint amissness—not even about the product itself, but about Ji Jue.
From the very start, Ji Jue's agenda had been too explicit, and that agenda didn't stop at this single product alone.
From the design philosophy to the implementation path, everything seemed to point toward another direction entirely.
To that end, he had gone out of his way to retain elements Lou Feng considered utterly trivial, adding redundancies completely unnecessary at this stage.
Ordinarily, such long-term planning was hardly bizarre; it would have been weirder if Ji Jue *didn't* have future applications in mind. But the crux was that Lou Feng sensed something off.
Long experience dealing with Ji Jue told him: if you ever feel like this dog bastard is up to something weird, don't doubt your gut—he definitely is!
And he's definitely cooking up something wicked!
"So what in the world are you actually trying to do?"
Lou Feng crossed his arms, asking sternly, "As your overseer, I am asking for an explanation on this project. That's entirely reasonable, isn't it?"
Reasonable. Incredibly reasonable. It couldn't be more reasonable.
Within the coalition faction, the overseer was second only to the workshop master—and not some wage slave or assistant beast of burden, but a key partner holding core assets. Wasn't the friction between workshop master and overseer the very catalyst for many large workshops fracturing in internal feuds?
By law and reason alike, Ji Jue owed him an explanation.
"Well, since you've already guessed, I won't hide it from you."
Ji Jue sat down calmly and said candidly, "I want to build a smart home system."
"What the hell is that?"
Lou Feng was baffled.
He had braced himself for Ji Jue being stubborn or denying everything, but he never expected him to be so blunt—and to offer such an abstract answer.
*Explain to me properly, what the fuck is a whole-fucking-house smart system?!*
"You know, a smart home."
Ji Jue snapped his fingers. The air conditioner turned on automatically, the desk lamp adjusted its brightness, the robot vacuum hummed to life, the coffee maker began preheating, and a double espresso started brewing.
The television screen lit up, airing the news. On the screen was the Yacheng TV morning broadcast, where an anchor solemnly read from a script: "Haian Tech's charity outreach campaign for new prosthetic limbs has officially commenced today. Let us now connect with our field reporter live on the scene..."
"That's a smart home."
Ji Jue spread his hands placidly. "As for other applications and potential, I don't need to spell it out, do I, Old Lou?"
Lou Feng's mind raced. His thoughts immediately shifted from civilian use to military applications, but then, following Ji Jue's typical train of logic, pivoted to industrial use, and even...
He froze, incredulous:
*—Humans?!*
Wait, was that possible? Not necessarily impossible. If developed along this foundation, wasn't the external link module connected directly to the human body? If it could allow a human to control other creations, might other creations not be used to control humans in return?
Bizarre as it seemed, if it was this bastard, there was no guarantee he wouldn't pull something like that!
Pure, unadulterated madness!
But... so what?!
Lou Feng's eyes lit up; he felt the prospects of this project brighten in an instant!
More than bright—it was positively radiant!
That's just how craftsmen were: talk about helping people and I might be half asleep, but talk about utterly heinous villainy and I'm wide awake!
Besides, even if he didn't understand others, didn't he know Ji Jue? When it came to stirring up trouble, the guy was always first in line, but when it came to truly abhorrent, unconscionable acts, this beast actually had a shred of bottom line.
The only issue was that Ji Jue had been a bit *too* forthcoming.
Once he realized this, Lou Feng looked across the desk with growing suspicion.
Staring straight at him.
To this, Ji Jue remained as nonchalant as ever, not even bothering to disguise it.
"Aside from that, I do have a few other ideas."
He paused, asking with a half-smile, "Though, do you really want to know?"
Lou Feng fell silent.
In the brief hush, he looked at the craftsman across the table, his expression shifting subtly—not out of curiosity, but more like... exercising self-restraint.
Even though he could sense that as long as he asked, Ji Jue wouldn't withhold anything.
Yet, perversely, he hesitated.
In the end, he chose to let it go.
"Forget it."
Lou Feng picked up the external link port on the desk again. "Do whatever you want. Just don't dig a fiery pit for me to jump into."
"Impossible. Rest easy,"
Ji Jue consoled with a smile. "After all, you're already in the pit!"
Lou Feng flipped him the middle finger without looking back.
He didn't want to speak.
Only, as he pushed the door open to leave, Ji Jue's voice reached him: "Whenever you want to know, you can ask. You're my overseer, Lou Feng. If you ask, I won't hide it."
The departing figure paused as if about to turn around.
In the end, he said nothing.
And left.
Leaving Ji Jue behind in the office, feeling an inexplicable pang of guilt.
If Lou Feng had snapped, *You'll regret this, Ji Jue*, he could have shut him down with *I'm the Workshop Master*. But precisely because Lou Feng was looking at the bigger picture—and even cherishing that sliver of 'camaraderie' between them that existed in quantum superposition and might not even be real—Ji Jue felt a touch of shame.
*Forgive me, Old Lou, this is the last time...*
*But then again, I shouldn't speak so definitively. Next time isn't guaranteed either!*
***
Arriving in Xinquan a day early, checking into a temporary ward at Haian Hospital, and beginning the fast that night.
Waking up at seven in the morning for a fasting examination, verifying physical condition, queuing to receive an ID number; by eight o'clock, the first eligible candidate had already begun his individual consultation and final status check.
In the presence of the attending physician, Haian Tech staff once again reiterated the project's inherent uncertainties, risks, and potential sequelae, reconfirming the participant's consent and having him sign.
"I acknowledge it. I understand. The consequences are clear to me."
The middle-aged man in the wheelchair nodded toward the camera, fumbling nervously. "Do I sign here? Done."
"Very well, Mr. Zhou."
After taking back the agreement, the staff member stamped the final seal.
The waiting nurse stepped forward, administered anesthesia, and wheeled him into the prepared operating theater.
Behind the observation glass on the upper tier, a crowd had gathered, some even bearing video cameras to document the entire process—not only the implantation of the first new-model prosthesis, but also the first fully automated implantation surgery.
Under the surgical lights, much of the set dressing specifically designed to project a high-tech vibe was entirely unnecessary, serving only to look vaguely impressive to outsiders.
The true focal point was the thoroughly unpretentious robotic arm and the equipment beside it.
[Medical record imported. Repeated verification. Status confirmed.]
[Incision made. Position calculated. Lock acquired. Neural transduction complete.]
[Neural port implanted. Startup. Verification. Repeated verification. Activation complete.]
[Surgical ID: RA0001. Finished.]
In under five minutes, seamless and smooth.
The scalpel parted flesh to expose the spine, the program ran its own calculations to pinpoint the optimal site, and the rest differed little from a construction job.
Trepanning the vertebra, bridging the nerves, implanting the port, injecting medication, and finishing the sutures.
Left exposed on the surface was merely a metal socket.
Done.
As for mounting the external link module, that part was even simpler: align it with the socket, check the orientation, don't force a miracle with brute strength, and anyone with hands could do it.
Meanwhile, the most technologically sophisticated elements—the neural transduction and metallic neural printing—occurred entirely out of camera view.
One wheeled out, another wheeled in, then the next, and the next...
Smooth as flowing water.
Nearly a hundred surgeries over the course of the morning, without a single hitch, all completely successful.
Naturally so—anyone who wasn't compatible or whose condition was unsuitable had already been screened out in the preliminary physical exam.
At one in the afternoon, the first recipient to undergo surgery had already awakened.
"Mr. Zhou, hello, can you hear my voice?"
An excited reporter stood before the bed, thrusting forward a microphone with a beaming smile. "Do you have anything you'd like to say to the viewers watching at home?"
"Huh?"
The patient on the bed looked dazed, blinking as if only now coming to his senses. "H-hello, everyone? I... I'm all right, just a bit dizzy."
Under continuous filming, the doctor checked his physical condition, issuing judgment and clearance. The waiting staff member opened the packaging and deftly slotted the thumb-sized external link module into the port on his back, filling the recess flush.
Mounting the two new prosthetic limbs was even simpler, needing only to be secured to the leg stumps.
After recalibrating the program and connections, it was done.
The entire process felt like changing a tire.
So much so that not only the reporter, but even the patient himself found it hard to believe. Looking down at the unfamiliar pair of legs, he asked blankly, "It's done?"
"It's all done, Mr. Zhou,"
the staff member said with a smile. "You can try moving them now, but to start, I'd suggest keeping the movement minimal and relying on a walker. Once you get used to them, it will be much easier."
Not until he stood on the floor leaning against the rehabilitation walker did he begin to process it.
He lifted his right leg stiffly, then set it down. No response.
He lifted it again, and set it down again.
Time after time.
Until his whole body suddenly shuddered. The moment long-forgotten sensation and feedback surged up through his spinal cord and reached his brain, he froze in place.
"Mr. Zhou? Mr. Zhou, hello? Can you hear me?"
"I... I..."
The middle-aged man stared blankly, his eyes slowly rimmed with red. "I feel my leg! I... I feel it!"
Before everyone's eyes, his right leg lifted once more. This time, under rapt attention, the rigid right leg that had remained unresponsive began to bend.
Backward.
The linked joint in the foot engaged, pulling the instep upward in fluid motion.
Tentatively, with excruciating slowness, he took a step forward.
A stumble, caught by the walker.
Then another step. Slow and steady, he walked several paces.
Beside him, his wife lowered her head, weeping tears of joy.
He hesitated for a moment, then abruptly cast the walker aside. He stepped forward—one stride, then another, moving faster and faster. He couldn't hold back the smile, the cheering, the shouting.
He began to run.
He slammed into the wall with a loud thud and tumbled to the floor.
When others reached out, he slapped their hands away. "Get back, don't help me! I'll do it myself!"
Bracing against the wall and floor, he tremblingly raised his leg again, scrambling up clumsily, slipping, and pushing himself back up.
Until he truly stood up from the floor, standing tall before everyone.
Tears poured down his face, weeping uncontrollably.
Amidst the cheers, admiring applause rang out, rolling on without end. But he paid no mind to any of it; he took another stride, running, staggering.
He even shoved open the door and ran out into the hospital courtyard, shouting like a madman, sprinting in pure ecstasy.
"Keep an eye on him, but don't stop him."
By the window, the attending physician stared at the retreating figure, a smile unconsciously curving his lips. "Let him run a bit. Let him run."
Next was the second trial participant. Under guidance, he successfully picked up various items from the table. After some practice, he picked up a pair of chopsticks with his brand-new right hand; when bringing food toward his mouth, he accidentally poked it into his nostril.
Wincing through the sting, he actually laughed. He tried again and again, until he accurately fed two strands of rice noodles into his mouth, swallowing them down with tears.
Next came an elderly man whose limbs were intact but who had been paralyzed after a stroke.
Through an external link module at his cervical spine, he was able to control a lightweight full-body exoskeleton to sit up in bed again, and even lean on a walker to try walking once more.
After confirming that he had regained basic self-care ability, the old man, still unable to control his drooling, pushed past everyone trying to help. For the first time in years, the very first thing he did on his own was walk into the restroom.
Through the door, muffled and stifled weeping could be heard.
As if he had reclaimed his most fundamental dignity.
After test upon test, all the doctors reached the same conclusion: with just brief rehabilitation and adaptation, users of the new prosthetics could return to normal society. Even for paralyzed patients, as long as they remained lucid, the difficulty of care could be drastically reduced.
"Is that so? How wonderful. Truly wonderful."
Elder Deng of the Church stood before the window, watching the growing number of figures walking and running in the courtyard, and let out a soft laugh. "The degree of completion is already remarkably high."
"Far from it,"
Ji Jue shook his head. "At this stage, sequelae are still unavoidable."
Not only was there an extended latency early on, but the adaptation period was accompanied by inevitable phantom pain. Furthermore, due to the materials used, multiple immunosuppressants had to be taken to manage rejection.
At the same time, its operation could hardly be called stable; it required periodic replacement. In short, it was riddled with flaws.
"Still, they can walk and move, can't they?"
Elder Deng smiled faintly. "No matter how troublesome and uncomfortable it is, isn't that tiny glimmer of hope what people live for?"
If only things could be a little better.
Even just a tiny bit...
A life once filled with agony and torment felt as though it could have a tomorrow after all.
Able to glimpse a faint ray of dawn.
"Though, it might not entirely be a good thing."
He paused, his solemn expression suddenly turning cheerful. "That fellow Longge has been strutting around the church for ages, showing off so much that quite a few people want to break those two new legs of his all over again.
"Turns out he looked much easier on the eyes when he was a cripple."
"Understood,"
Ji Jue nodded resolutely, assuring him with utmost gravity. "I'll instruct someone to get on it, and tell them it's on Elder Deng's orders."
Both men burst into hearty laughter.
"Any further developments planned?" Elder Deng asked. "Knowing your style, you must have new arrangements lined up for the future, right?"
"Well, speaking of which, yes,"
Ji Jue nodded. "Phase one is limited to hands, feet, and limbs. In phase two, we're considering adding ocular prosthetics, though early results might not be great.
"We're in the technology accumulation phase; there's no shortcut for now."
"No need to worry." Elder Deng waved a hand dismissively. "If it's a matter of patents, the Church carries some weight with the hospital sector. I'll draft an application as soon as I get back; we should hear back within the week."
"Then I'll trouble you for that."
Ji Jue accepted the favor without hesitation, then added, "Using the implantation equipment isn't complicated. If the Church is interested, we can gift..."
"No need!"
Elder Deng cut him off, speaking with firm finality. "Please do not mention this matter again. Entrusting such things to the Church might not be a blessing."
The Church had hosted countless charity events of the same nature, but this time was different. This time, it could not be done.
Those cheap prosthetics could be given away freely; no matter the quantity, the Church could foot the bill without hesitation. But those were cheap goods, cheap to the point of squalor.
Precisely because of that, nobody would steal them, nobody would covet them, and stripping them down fetched no money. Thus, they brought no harm to those who had nothing to their name.
Yet this present design was entirely different.
If Ji Jue's work had been clumsier, more cumbersome, or even... worse, he might have hesitated. But precisely because it was so successful, he had to refuse outright.
It was not just the inability to guarantee the users' safety; it was also that the Church could no longer offer those suffering in hardship anything beyond hope.
Far too many people needed them, yet what the Church could allocate was far too little. How could they favor one over another? Facing the same disability and suffering, was someone else's agony any less than one's own?
If the power of distribution were placed in the Church's hands, who knew how much turmoil it would spawn? When hope could not be placed in the hands of everyone, how could they endure the uncontrollable resentment that followed?
"The Church cannot participate in this,"
Elder Deng sighed ruefully. "You've done wonderfully, Mr. Ji. You can accomplish many things we cannot.
"So please, keep doing it."
He said, "Just keep going."
"I will,"
Ji Jue nodded, giving a firm promise.
They fell silent, gazing out the window at the smiles and tears as cheers drifted from afar.
Even as the sky gradually dimmed.
No one seemed afraid of the fading light anymore.
***
Backed by the Church's endorsement and the natural support of the Haizhou authorities, Haian's phase-one charity campaign launched in full swing, using up every single quota within a few short days.
Across Haizhou, applications hoping to join phase two snowflaked in. The soaring numbers made Ji Jue daydream: if only he had five, six, seven, or eight more partners like Old Lou, wouldn't the buildup of external link modules take just two or three months to wrap up? They could iterate through a new generation in a year or two, and in eight, nine, or ten years, they might even put someone on the moon.
Alas, Lou Feng threatened to drop dead on the spot, firmly capping the quota under two thousand per phase.
Ji Jue repeatedly urged him that since he was a full-fledged craftsman, there was no need to do everything by hand—he could take on apprentices and herd some beasts of burden. Lou Feng's response was to block his contact immediately.
At the same time, Haian's security detail grew increasingly busy, patrolling everywhere and cleaning up messes day in and day out... There was no helping it; this was the wasteland, and the wildness of the wasteland was just a bit too wild!
Even though contracts were signed before implantation and the ban on unauthorized modifications was stressed repeatedly, nothing could suppress the restless, fearless spirits of the locals.
There was no shortage of tech-mod maniacs itching to show off their chops!
Just a couple days ago, an old codger who had been missing an arm for half his life went and welded a machine gun directly onto his hand! During a settlement clash, he led the charge, swinging that machine gun around and slaughtering seven paths in and seven paths out—scary as all hell.
It got so bad that his rivals called Haian's hotline overnight to report him for fighting dirty!
If it were just that, it might have been manageable. But others loved dabbling in little inventions.
Hiding a gun barrel inside a palm, stuffing a grenade into a leg, removing output limiters on leg or arm prosthetics, or even converting from electric to gasoline power to leap five, six, seven, or eight meters into the air—providing Ji Jue with a generous crop of novel data and creative ways to die...
Considering that channeling water was better than damming it, and that rigid suppression was inferior to bringing things under regulation, Ji Jue slapped his forehead.
He pointed a finger straight at the sky.
"Hey, I have a plan!"
He suddenly looked up and said to Yu Shu, who had already begun questioning his will to live, "Why don't we take the lead and host an athletic games!"
[?]
Yu Shu stared back numbly, his vision going black once more.
*Boss, are you mentally sound?*
Chapter 841