High Martial Arts: From Mechanic to Sword Immortal

The moment the timer's numbers turn red, the assessment officially begins.

The atmosphere inside the No. 3 simulation training field instantly became tense.

Almost immediately, everyone's attention was drawn to Chen Gang.

This guy is too dazzling.

Not only is he handsome, but his movements are also fluid and graceful, exuding a professional and pleasing aesthetic.

He opened the silver, high-end toolbox.

Inside, various precision instruments, gleaming with a faint light, were neatly arranged.

Chen Gang put on specially made psionic sensing gloves, picked up the probe, and began to conduct a thorough scan of the "Peregrine" fighter jet in front of him.

"drop--"

"drop--"

The instrument's crisp beeping tone rang out rhythmically.

With each sound, Chen Gang would check off an item on the holographic recording board.

Less than ten minutes.

He had already located three deep-seated fault points.

"hiss--"

"That speed is incredible!"

In the stands, a C-level technician watching couldn't help but gasp in amazement.

"Back when I took the C-level exam, it took me half an hour just to eliminate distractors, and he diagnosed three cases in just ten minutes?"

"That's right, look who brought them out." Someone nearby immediately chimed in.

"Chen Gang's basic skills are something that even those of us who have studied for five or six years might not be able to match."

"Look at his disassembly movements, they're as precise as a textbook example. A little more and it'll be messy, a little less and it'll be wrong!"

Listening to the murmurs around him, Zhang Yi stood by the sidelines with his hands behind his back, a broad smile on his face.

He barely even watched Chen Gang's actions.

Because he knew it was safe.

"Old Wang, did you see that?" Zhang Yi nudged a familiar face next to him with his elbow. It was a C-level technician who was also leading a team.

"That's what you call professionalism."

"Aircraft repair is a delicate job that requires scientific procedures and precise instruments."

"It's something that can't be compared to using some unorthodox methods."

He deliberately raised his voice a few octaves when he said this.

Her gaze kept drifting towards Liao Ming.

Liao Ming ignored him.

She just stared intently in Han Feng's direction, her palms sweating profusely.

He trusted Han Feng, but it would be impossible not to be nervous in such a high-profile setting.

Seeing that Liao Ming wasn't responding, Zhang Yi felt bored and turned to ask the chief examiner, Zhao Yu, for a few comments.

By the way, he wanted to make a good impression on his disciple in front of Engineer Zhao.

"Engineer Zhao, look at these hands..."

Zhang Yi's words caught in his throat.

Zhao Yu, who should have been standing in the position of the chief examiner, was nowhere to be seen.

Zhang Yi was taken aback, looked around, and then his eyes suddenly bulged out.

Suddenly, Zhao Yu appeared to have moved to the other end of the field.

He was standing next to the wing of Han Feng's fighter jet.

He leaned out so far, as if he wanted to press his face against Han Feng's hand.

"What's going on?"

Zhang Yi's heart skipped a beat.

Did that kid violate some rules? Was he caught red-handed by Engineer Zhao?

At this moment, Zhao Yu was already deeply shocked.

As a senior B-level engineer and an authority in this field.

What kind of aircraft repair methods hasn't he seen?

But he swore he had never seen Han Feng repair things like this before.

This kid... doesn't need the testing equipment at all!

Han Feng was strolling in his own backyard.

He walked under the fuselage and patted the armor plate.

I listened for a second.

Then he picked up a wrench and removed the cover plate with two quick clicks.

He reached in and pulled out a worn gear.

Then, without pausing, he turned around and went to the landing gear.

He didn't even squat down.

My toe lightly touched a spot on the hydraulic rod.

It was determined that there was a problem with the rebound damping.

He immediately squatted down and began disassembling the regulating valve.

No hesitation.

No investigation was conducted.

Instead of frowning and analyzing waveforms with a data terminal.

He seemed to have a full-view vision cheat, heading straight for the lesion.

What's even more outrageous is his repair method.

Repairing airplanes is a dirty and tiring job.

Especially when it comes to fine-tuning psionic circuits, it often requires carefully repairing runes with a carving knife.

But what about Han Feng?

He skillfully navigated the complex pipelines with a screwdriver and wrench in hand.

The movements were so fast that they even left afterimages.

Those clips, screws, and rune plates seemed to come alive in his hands.

Automatically return to its original position.

This isn't about fixing an airplane.

This is a violent performance with an industrial aesthetic!

Silky smooth.

It's so smooth.

His movements were incredibly fluid.

At this moment, Han Feng entered a mysterious state.

In his perception, the fighter jet was no longer just cold steel.

It is a living organism with a pulse and breath.

Where it hurts, where it's blocked, where it's uncomfortable.

The fighter jets are clearly telling him this through the "human-machine integration" connection.

Those complex psionic circuit diagrams instantly overlapped in his mind with the knowledge from "Psionic Engine Principles: Proficiency".

He doesn't need to do the calculations.

Because the answer is there.

Zhao Yu was so engrossed in watching that he even forgot his role as an invigilator.

I instinctively wanted to get closer to see how this kid did it.

As Zhao Yu made his move, the audience in the stands also noticed something unusual.

"Hey, look over there!"

"That guy named Han Feng... is he crazy? How could he tear it down so quickly?"

"Holy crap! He didn't even look at the blueprints?"

"That's the high-pressure psionic pump! Removing it from the wrong location will cause it to explode!"

"Wait... he put it back? It's fixed already? Less than three minutes?"

The crowd began to stir.

The people who were originally surrounding Chen Gang's side suddenly swarmed towards Han Feng's side, like iron filings attracted by a magnet.

Three layers inside, three layers outside.

Fat Tiger, holding a banner, squeezed to the front, his mouth agape as he watched Han Feng's incredible skill.

"Good heavens... Is this madman possessed by a machine god?"

Zhou Wen adjusted his glasses, his hand almost slipping from his grip on the recorder.

"This madman isn't usually like this in his dorm. Could it be that his power is being suppressed by this box of tools?"

The most shocking thing happened.

After the physical faults were resolved, Han Feng jumped directly into the cockpit.

The engine was started.

"boom--"

The roar of engines filled the air.

Typically, technicians connect a bulky data analysis console when debugging an engine.

Fine-tune the parameters based on the waveform.

But Han Feng didn't.

He leaned half his body out of the cockpit, his eyes closed.

Listen closely to the roar of the engine.

His right hand moved rapidly across several knobs on the control panel.

Three circles to the left, half a circle to the right, then make a slight adjustment of two more spaces.

As he moved, the engine sound, which had previously been somewhat noisy and vibrating, quickly became pure and steady.

The change in that sound.

It's like a singer who is tone-deaf suddenly having their voice tuned to heaven by a sound engineer.

Zhao Yu stood to the side, his eyes shining brighter and brighter.

He couldn't help but take a step forward.

I wanted to see every single micro-management move Han Feng made.

As a senior B-level engineer.

He knew all too well how difficult what Han Feng was doing now was.

This is completely free from the constraints of data.

He operates purely on an extreme understanding of mechanical principles and a terrifying intuition.

Is this what they call talent?

No.

This is simply a gift from God.

The kind where you have to put the rice spoon in your mouth!

Time passed second by second.