High Martial Arts: From Mechanic to Sword Immortal

Escaping the quagmire of the outer city is the dream of everyone here.

Han Feng thanked her and sat down amidst the ticket seller's fawning gaze.

Before he could even settle in, a loud, deliberately enthusiastic voice exploded in his ear.

"Oh! Isn't this Han, our classmate from the compound?"

Han Feng turned his head away.

A wrinkled face was almost touching him, the smile so intense it distorted his features.

It was Grandpa Wang, an old neighbor from when we lived in the outer city.

Sitting next to Grandpa Wang was his grandson, Wang Hao.

The boy who always looked down on others was now staring intently at Han Feng with a gaze that was a mixture of jealousy and incomprehension.

More precisely, they were staring at the brand-new blue badge on his chest, which represented his C-level technician status.

"Uncle Wang, what a coincidence."

Han Feng nodded indifferently.

"It's more than just a coincidence! It's an incredible stroke of fate!"

Grandpa Wang slapped his thigh hard, the sound making the carriage vibrate.

He gripped his grandson's arm tightly, so tightly that Wang Hao's face began to contort.

"Hao'er! You little brat, did you see that?! This is the Han senior from Martial Arts University that I talk about all the time!"

"He's already a C-level technician!"

Grandpa Wang's voice suddenly rose, filled with a boastful tone, as if Han Feng's achievements were entirely his doing.

All eyes in the carriage instantly focused on this spot, more eagerly and with more complex emotions than before.

"Just lucky."

Han Feng's answer was calm and unwavering.

"nonsense!"

Grandpa Wang was talking animatedly, his face flushed with excitement.

"Xiao Han, you're too modest! You clearly have the ability!"

He handled Han Feng's hand with the care and force of a rare treasure, yet with an undeniable authority.

"Little Han, now that you're successful, don't forget about us old neighbors!"

"Quick, give your good-for-nothing brother some pointers on how to get into Wuhan University!"

"He's been struggling with the bottleneck of the second level of the Body Tempering Realm these past few days!"

Again.

Han Feng remained completely unmoved; he even felt a slight urge to laugh.

Just a few days ago, in Grandpa Wang's words, I was still that "poor kid who studied for three years and got a D grade," but in the blink of an eye, I became the "outstanding" Senior Han.

This world is adorably realistic.

Wang Hao's face turned a deep purplish-red. Being publicly shamed by his grandfather made him feel extremely humiliated.

He stiffened his neck and reluctantly squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth.

"Hello, Senior Brother Han."

The sound was as faint as the mournful chirping of a mosquito.

Just then, the car's public address system came on.

"Aircraft Graveyard Station, we have arrived. Passengers who wish to disembark, please prepare to proceed."

Han Feng immediately stood up and subtly withdrew his hand.

"Uncle Wang, I've arrived at my stop. I'll be going now."

"Alright, alright! Xiao Han, you go ahead with your work! Important matters come first!"

Grandpa Wang's enthusiasm showed no signs of waning as he waved his arms vigorously.

Wang Hao also stood up and managed to say, "Goodbye, Senior Brother Han."

Han Feng nodded, turned around, squeezed off the bus, and showed no sign of lingering.

The doors closed, and the hoverbus slowly drove away.

The feigned respect on Wang Hao's face vanished instantly, replaced by deep disdain and jealousy.

"Grandpa! Why were you being so subservient to him?"

He complained in a low voice.

"He just got promoted to C-level, right? He's just a plane mechanic, not a combat hero flying a fighter jet. What's so great about him!"

"You don't know anything!"

Grandpa Wang slapped his grandson hard on the back of the head, his eyes widening like saucers.

"To reach a C grade in university, you're truly exceptional! You wouldn't find one in ten D grades!"

"For us peasants from the outer city, being able to speak with others is an immense blessing!"

He gazed into the distance as the bus drove away, his eyes becoming distant, and he murmured to himself.

"A single word of guidance from someone like that can save you ten years of wasted time!"

"Okay, okay..."

Wang Hao rubbed the back of his head impatiently, looking out the window, but a nameless anger was burning inside him.

Airplane repairman...

In the future, he must go to flight school and become a true ace piloting the JF-17 Thunder fighter jet!

He wanted everyone to know who the true chosen one of heaven was!

……

As Han Feng stepped off the bus, the familiar air of the outer city rushed towards him, mixed with dust and industrial fumes.

He walked along the bumpy dirt road toward that steel graveyard.

The old barbed wire fence, the huge gantry crane, and the iconic sign made of half an airplane wing.

The aircraft graveyard remains the same as always.

Han Feng pushed open the creaking iron gate and went inside.

In the courtyard, Grandpa Sun was sitting on a recliner, wearing reading glasses, leisurely reading a yellowed paper newspaper.

On the small table next to it, there was a pot of steaming tea.

He didn't even look up when he heard footsteps, his voice languid.

"You're here? Head straight to Hangar 3. The key's hanging on the door. I've filled up your tank."

"Thank you, Grandpa Sun."

Han Feng responded and was about to go over when Grandpa Sun suddenly put down his newspaper.

He adjusted his reading glasses, squinted his eyes which always seemed a little cloudy, and carefully examined Han Feng.

When his gaze finally landed on the brand-new blue badge on Han Feng's chest.

Grandpa Sun suddenly sat up straight, his leisurely expression vanishing instantly, and the newspaper in his hand slipped to the ground.

"C-level...technician?"

Grandpa Sun's voice trembled without him even realizing it.

"Kid, you...you got promoted?!"

His cloudy eyes reflected the emblem that shimmered with a faint blue light, as if he were seeing some incredible monster.

"Just lucky."

Han Feng's answer was calm and unwavering, as if he were talking about a trivial matter.

This nonchalant attitude surprised Grandpa Sun even more.

He has seen too many young people with dreams in this aircraft graveyard, and too many disillusioned people whose edges have been worn down by reality.

He had never seen anyone like Han Feng, who could rise from the lowest D-level to C-level technician in such a short time without showing any arrogance or pride.

Grandpa Sun lay back down in his chair, picked up the teapot, and took a big gulp, seemingly trying to calm his inner turmoil with the scalding tea.

He waved his hand, his tone returning to its usual lazy manner.

"The key is on the door, and the gas tank is full. Go ahead and use it."

"Thank you, Grandpa Sun."

Han Feng turned and walked towards Hangar No. 3, behind him came Grandpa Sun's leisurely voice.

"Kid, you've struck it rich, huh? Next time you come over, if you dare to complain about being poor again, see how I deal with you."

Han Feng smiled but didn't turn around.

In hangar number three, the familiar "CJ-3" trainer aircraft sat quietly.

The scratches on the body have been repaired and repainted, making it look brand new.

He opened the cockpit door and neatly stacked the thirty emerald-green mid-tier recovery potions, which exuded a life-giving aura, into the storage compartment.

That expanse of lush green was all built up with contribution points; its extravagance was breathtaking.

These potions, worth a total of nine thousand contribution points, are enough to make an ordinary C-level technician envious for half a year.

He planned to "drink" them all within a day.

[Host connection detected to "(pseudo) magical artifact" flying sword: Beginner-3.]