High Martial Arts: From Mechanic to Sword Immortal

The system notification sounded.

Han Feng was stunned at first, then overjoyed.

really!

This system not only lets you fly a plane like you fly a sword, but it can also give you a progress bar when you read or study!

If we can quantify things, if we can display health bars, then what in this world is difficult?

Han Feng immediately focused his mind, his gaze fixed like a searchlight on the complex drawings and data on the pages of the book.

As he read and comprehended, the proficiency numbers on the panel began to jump at an almost frantic pace!

[Mechanical Principles Proficiency +1]

[Mechanical Principles Proficiency +2]

[Mechanical Principles Proficiency +5]

……

This growth rate is simply outrageous!

Han Feng quickly realized what was happening.

This isn't because his current learning efficiency is incredibly high; it's because the system is helping him "realize" his past accumulation.

For the past three years, he has studied day and night, and the knowledge he has memorized has filled every corner of his brain.

It's just that I hadn't been able to integrate and apply it before, so it was like a pile of loose sand.

Now, with a systematic approach, these scattered pieces of knowledge are quickly integrated and summarized, directly transforming into tangible skill proficiency.

The progress bar is speeding up.

10/100...

30/100...

60/100...

Han Feng turned the pages faster and faster, almost leaving afterimages.

Even Xiao Li, who was diligently studying on the bed next to him, couldn't help but glance at him.

"You lunatic, are you reading or fanning yourself?"

"How can you read the words if you're flipping through them so fast?"

Xiao Li nudged Han Feng's arm, his face full of suspicion.

"Reviewing the old helps us learn the new, and identifying and filling gaps in our knowledge."

Han Feng didn't even look up, and just gave a perfunctory reply.

His entire being was immersed in the pleasure brought by that ever-increasing number.

80/100...

90/100...

In just two hours, the progress bar soared to 95/100.

At this point, the rocket-like surge of speed finally slowed down.

Each jump in the numbers became incredibly difficult.

Han Feng slowed down his flipping through the book, no longer skimming through it, but beginning to think deeply about several classic and difficult cases in the manual.

For example, the aging of psionic transmission lines and the problem of incompatibility with the rune array.

This is the most common "old age disease" of the "Peregrine" fighter jet.

The standard solution given in the book is to replace the entire wiring system.

But in practice, where would you find the money and spare parts to replace the standard parts for a fart?

In most cases, technicians need to manually adjust the rune frequency with their bare hands to forcibly adapt to the aging circuitry.

The subtle techniques involved are not written down in the book; they are all passed down orally from experienced masters and learned through hands-on practice.

Han Feng slowly closed his eyes.

Instead of thinking about it, he began to simulate the feeling of that operation in his mind.

Imagine your fingertips touching the rune array, feeling the subtle psionic fluctuations, and then making adjustments precise to the micrometer level.

[Mechanical Principles Proficiency +1]

It's gone up a little more!

Time passed by, second by second.

Inside the dormitory, Fat Tiger's thunderous snoring had already begun.

This guy is the most useless; he fell asleep in less than half an hour while holding a book.

The thick maintenance manual was still on his face, and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, soaking the page on "fuel injection system".

Xiao Li and Zhou Wen were still trying to stay awake, but their eyelids were drooping and their heads were nodding.

Only Han Feng remained incredibly excited.

98/100...

99/100.

its stuck.

Han Feng opened his eyes, somewhat helpless.

He read through that basic theory book over and over again, and even went through another book, "300 Common Faults," from beginning to end.

But the number on the panel just stayed at 99, without moving an inch.

"It seems that relying solely on rote memorization and theoretical knowledge has reached its limit."

Han Feng closed the book and rubbed his throbbing temples.

Theory is just theory.

To break through that final barrier and transform from "beginner" to "proficient," what you lack is not books, but real, hands-on practice.

Tomorrow's "Peregrine Falcon" will be his best opportunity for a breakthrough.

Looking at the progress bar on the panel, which was just one step away from success, Han Feng felt incredibly itchy.

The system description mentions that each skill upgrade will trigger a "skill empowerment".

He was very curious about what the so-called "enlightenment" would be like when a purely technical skill was upgraded.

Could it be like in novels, where countless master-level repair knowledge and superb skills instantly flood into your mind?

How did he transform from an apprentice into a seasoned master repairman overnight?

Just thinking about it makes me so excited I can't sleep.

"You lunatic, aren't you asleep yet?"

Zhou Wen, who was on the upper bunk, turned over groggily and saw Han Feng still staring blankly under the lamp. He couldn't help but remind him.

"If we're not in good spirits tomorrow and our hands slip and we connect the wires incorrectly, Lao Liao might skin us alive on the spot."

"Go to sleep now."

Han Feng snapped out of his daze and smiled.

Indeed, haste makes waste.

Even with a system, physical health and energy are the foundation of everything.

Since we've already hit a bottleneck tonight, continuing will only be a waste of energy. We might as well conserve our strength and give Lao Liao a big surprise tomorrow.

He turned off the lamp and climbed into his bed.

In the darkness, the dormitory was filled with Fat Tiger's rhythmic snoring, occasionally interspersed with a few words of sleep talking.

"Meat...my meat..."

Han Feng put his hands behind his head, staring at the dark ceiling, and seemed to already picture the fighter jet being dismantled tomorrow.

Every component and every circuit is clearly visible.

"Peregrine falcon..."

"See you tomorrow."

He silently recited a sentence in his heart, then closed his eyes and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

For a young man from out of town who had been struggling to survive for three years, the ability to remain calm before seizing an opportunity had long been an instinct ingrained in his bones.

……

The next morning, while it was still barely light, the sky began to brighten.

"Bang!"

The door to Han Feng's dormitory was kicked open in an extremely violent manner.

"Get the hell up, all of you!"

"Big job!"

"If you go too late, you won't even get a sip of hot soup, let alone meat!"

Li stood at the door, looking very energetic, waving his precious psionic wrench in his hand, and speaking so loudly it could lift the roof off.

Fat Tiger, who was sleeping on the lower bunk, was so startled by the shout that he sprang up and sat up abruptly.

His eyes weren't even fully open, but he had already started muttering unconsciously.

"Meat...my meat..."

Zhou Wen slowly pushed up his glasses.

He glanced at the two people who were as excited as if they had been injected with chicken blood, and then at Han Feng, who was already dressed and doing stretching exercises in the corner, and shook his head helplessly.

Last night's injection of chicken blood had an exceptionally good effect.

After a quick wash, the four of them rushed out of the dormitory and headed straight for the hangar of the aviation division.

All the way, Fat Tiger was fantasizing about how to eat that pound of Iron Feather Bird meat.

"You lunatic, do you think we should braise it or steam it?"

"How about... we get a hot pot?"

"Get it first, you're practically drooling all over my shoes."

Xiao Li complained from the side with a look of disgust.

Soon, the four arrived at the huge hangar complex of the Tiangong Maintenance Department.

Dozens of enormous domed hangars, like steel behemoths, are neatly arranged in the open space.

At this moment, most of the hangar doors were open, and rows of silver-gray Peregrine fighter jets were quietly parked inside.

The air was thick with the mixed smell of engine oil and the sweet, fishy odor that was unique to the dissipation of psionic energy.

The roar of engines and the clanging of metal could be heard from afar, full of the vitality and hustle and bustle unique to the industrial age.

The four of them dared not delay for a moment, quickened their pace, and soon found their mentor, Liao Ming, in Hangar No. 3.

Liao Mingzheng stood with his hands behind his back, directing two transport robots to carefully position a Peregrine Falcon fighter jet whose fuselage was covered with scratches and charred marks.

The fighter jet had clearly just been towed back from a brutal simulated battlefield and looked utterly battered.

"You're here?"

Hearing footsteps, Liao Ming turned around, saw the four people, and simply nodded and waved.

He pointed to the battered fighter jet in front of him and got straight to the point, without uttering a single unnecessary word.

"This is it, your task for today."

Liao Ming's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept across the faces of the four men one by one, his tone serious and devoid of any emotion.

"This time, I won't interfere; I'll just watch from the sidelines."

"Whoever can independently identify and solve the main problems of this aircraft will be recommended to participate in this year's C-level technician promotion assessment."

The voice just fell.

The eyes of Xiao Li, Pang Hu, and Zhou Wen lit up instantly.

Their breathing quickened unconsciously.