High Martial Arts: From Mechanic to Sword Immortal

Chapter 52 A Small Test

The final urban warfare simulation.

Han Feng's performance plunged the entire shooting range into a deathly silence.

He moved swiftly through the complex steel jungle, his figure shifting unpredictably.

Every shot fired was not directed at the enemy itself.

Instead, it points to a pipe on the wall, the floor, or even the ceiling.

The bullets traced bizarre ricochet trajectories in the air.

It felt like being guided by an invisible hand.

He can always sneak into the enemy's most unexpected blind spot and accurately hit the center of their forehead.

Gunfighting?

No, it's more like a "flying sword" from mythology.

The final results are now in.

Hit rate: 100%.

Fatal hit rate: 98%.

The entire firing range was completely silent.

Fang Jian stared at the report and remained silent for a full half minute.

The third item is cold weapons.

He turned abruptly and walked toward the weapons rack, as if he wanted to turn the page on this absurd situation as soon as possible.

In this test, Han Feng's performance finally returned to the realm of "ordinary people".

He could wield an alloy battle sword with terrifying physical abilities and reaction speed, making it impenetrable.

But in the eyes of a true martial arts expert like Liu Cheng, strength alone, without proper technique, is nothing but a weakness.

This finally allowed Liu Cheng, Su Yue, and the others to relax their tense nerves a little.

Fortunately.

This monster finally has something it's not good at.

"Han Feng, come with me."

After all the tests were over, Fang Jian called Han Feng away alone.

He was taken to a separate repair room.

This was an additional test prepared specifically for him.

Fang Jian pointed to a Peregrine fighter jet with its engine cover removed in the corner of the hangar, his voice icy.

"The backup engine for the third team showed abnormal oil pressure during training yesterday, resulting in a 15% drop in power."

"The technicians from the third team spent the whole night checking, disassembling and reassembling, but they couldn't find the problem."

"Han Feng, you are a C-level technician highly recommended by Zhao Yu, show us your skills."

The other four new recruits had no mechanical repair background and just watched from afar.

Han Feng nodded and walked to the fighter jet.

He didn't pick up the diagnostic computer, nor did he look through the maintenance logs.

Amidst the puzzled gazes of the crowd, he simply extended his right hand and gently placed it on the cold fuselage skin.

Then, I closed my eyes.

【Flying Sword: Peregrine Falcon Generation 1 (Modified)】

[Rank: Low-grade magic artifact.]

[Status: Mental connection being established...]

In an instant, the cold metal vanished.

In his perception, the fighter jet transformed into a complex body flowing with energy and light.

Those psionic conduits and hydraulic lines are like clearly visible blood vessels.

Where there is smooth flow, where there is congestion, where there is even the slightest imperceptible damage, nothing can hide.

Just ten seconds.

Han Feng opened his eyes, his dark pupils clear and unfathomable.

He turned to look at a ground crew member who was watching the commotion.

"A 14-gauge wrench and a spare reflux valve washer."

The ground crew member hesitated for a moment, then instinctively took something out of the tool cart and handed it over.

Han Feng took the tools, said nothing, and crouched down to crawl into the complex engine compartment.

Five minutes later.

Under the watchful eyes of a group of top trainees and instructors, he emerged again.

I wiped the oil off my hands with a cloth.

"alright."

"alright?"

Fang Jian frowned and looked down at the timer on his wrist.

"Less than ten minutes? Han Feng, are you sure you're not joking?"

"The gasket of the return valve in the left combustion chamber aged and deformed under high temperature and pressure, causing a small amount of fuel to leak into the energy circuit, resulting in falsely high pressure readings and power loss."

Han Feng stated it calmly, as if he were reciting a textbook.

"I've replaced the gasket and also slightly adjusted the angle of the fuel injectors. The power should be restored."

Before Fang Jian could speak, a tall man in a dark blue training uniform waved to a driver.

"Let's go up and test drive it."

The man, wearing a golden sword badge on his chest, was Zhang Hao, the president of the Sword Society.

The roar of the engine resumed.

A few minutes later, the test pilot jumped out of the plane with a look of utter disbelief on his face.

He gave Zhang Hao a thumbs-up from a distance.

"Amazing! Boss! The power output has been fully restored!"

Inside the hangar, you could hear a pin drop.

If the previous flight assessments were truly remarkable...

The repair demonstration now is a complete miracle!

The problem that the team of professional technicians from the third team couldn't find all night was solved by him just touching it with his hand?

Did you also do a performance optimization?

"What...what kind of approach is this?"

Liu Cheng felt his worldview had been shaken and subconsciously asked Su Yue, who was beside him.

"Is this also a talent?"

Su Yue adjusted her glasses, her eyes behind the lenses filled with a bewilderment that science could not explain.

"I don't know... Even an A-level certified psionic engineer must first connect to the equipment and run the full diagnostic procedure."

"Touch it with your hands?"

"metaphysics."

President Zhang Hao clapped his hands, breaking the silence.

His face showed undisguised admiration and a smile.

He strode up to Han Feng, his sharp eyes looking as if he had discovered a rare treasure.

"Han Feng, right? Come join our team."

Just as the other squad leaders who had rushed over upon hearing the news were about to try and snatch the person away, Zhang Hao blocked their path with a single sentence.

"Our team is just missing someone who can both play and fix things."

"Besides, this kid doesn't have his own plane. Apart from my team, who among you can afford to support him?"

Everyone fell silent instantly.

Indeed, no matter how extraordinary Han Feng is, he cannot change one fatal flaw—poverty.

He was a D-level student with no background or family wealth, and didn't even own a single, dilapidated private aircraft.

In a place like the Sword Society, where elites abound, they are simply an anomaly.

Do you want the club to specially approve a main combat aircraft with hundreds of thousands or millions of contribution points for a newcomer?

No one dared to bring it up.

"Han Feng, you don't have any objections, do you?"

Zhang Hao looked at Han Feng with a domineering gaze.

Han Feng shook his head: "No objection."

Being able to join the strongest team and get a free plane to fly—only a fool would complain.

"very good."

Zhang Hao was very satisfied with his decisiveness, and turned around to point to the depths of the hangar.

There was a drab, clumsy-looking fighter jet parked there.

"That's our club's logistics support vehicle, codenamed 'Grey Donkey'."

Han Feng looked in the direction he was pointing.

It was a light transport fighter jet that had undergone terrifying modifications based on the "Peregrine Generation 1".

The originally streamlined fuselage was swollen and covered with thick composite armor plates.

Below the fuselage hangs a huge, rugby ball-shaped maintenance pod, almost touching the ground.

Among a group of fighter jets designed with razor-sharp edges in pursuit of speed and maneuverability, this design is like a sumo wrestler in a bomb suit infiltrating a ballet troupe.

Zhang Hao patted Han Feng on the shoulder, his tone teasing, but his eyes were carefully observing Han Feng's reaction.

"Don't look down on it because it's ugly. Although it flies slowly, it's tough and durable. That's why we call it 'Grey Donkey'."

"From now on, it will be your personal vehicle."

"Your mission, in addition to participating in combat as a substitute pilot, is to be responsible for the emergency repair and support of the entire squadron on the battlefield."

"To put it simply," Zhang Hao grinned, "you are our 'sword-wielding technician'."

"A swordsman?"

Han Feng repeated the address, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Isn't this just a battlefield nanny working as a mobile repair station?

"That's right."

Fang Jian, standing to the side, added coldly, a rare look of anticipation appearing on his face.

"When there are no missions, you are also responsible for the daily maintenance and upkeep of all the fighter jets in the squadron."

"Of course, this isn't free work. The club will provide you with stipends and contribution points according to the highest standards for C-level engineers."

Upon hearing the words "allowance" and "contribution points," the slight disdain in Han Feng's eyes vanished instantly.

He stepped forward, reached out, and gently stroked the rough explosion-proof coating on the "Grey Donkey" aircraft.

The touch from my fingertips was cold and solid.

How is it ugly?

This is clearly an unparalleled sense of security and comfort!

Flying slowly?

The armor is thick!

Is the design stupid?

It's spacious!

For a mechanic who is extremely afraid of death and desperately short of money, this is simply a dream machine tailor-made for him!

"no problem."

Han Feng answered decisively, even with a hint of joy.