Stop it, the country really can't fit any more bans on the domestic entertainment industry.

Dust flew everywhere, and the noise of people filled the air.

The construction site, which was originally somewhat orderly, was instantly transformed into a noisy vegetable market.

Those villagers, who usually seemed simple and honest, suddenly unleashed astonishing fighting power under the enormous temptation of getting a good deal.

"Hey! This is the one I liked first!"

"Let go! This piece of iron is huge; it'll be perfect for weighing down my pickle jar when I get back!"

"Don't push! There's enough for everyone!"

Everyone rushed forward, their rough, calloused hands reaching for the pile of rusty weapons, as if they were grabbing discounted eggs at a supermarket.

"Don't steal it! Don't steal it!"

Just then, Pengpeng arrived. He had originally wanted to check on the situation here.

That's what I saw.

Immediately, he broke out in a cold sweat, his voice nearly hoarse from shouting. He spread his arms, trying to use his not-so-broad body to block the surging crowd, but it was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

........................................

Officer Zhang, who was maintaining order nearby, also looked helpless; his hat was askew from being squeezed.

"Folks! Mind your manners! Mind your manners! This is a TV program being filmed!" Old Zhang shouted at the top of his lungs, but who was listening to that at that moment?

As the scene grew increasingly chaotic, two middle-aged women even started pulling each other's hair over a round anti-tank mine.

Pengpeng simply couldn't take it anymore.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, panting as he retreated to Li Mo'an's side, his face filled with anxiety and helplessness.

"Brother Mo'an, what... what do we do?"

Looking at the out-of-control scene before him, Pengpeng lowered his voice, his tone full of helplessness:

"There's no way to persuade them! These old men and women are too strong."

At this point, he glanced at the pile of iron lumps that were about to be divided up, gritted his teeth, as if making some kind of compromise:

"How about... we just let them take a few?"

"Anyway, these are props provided by the production team, and I saw that guy holding onto them tightly. If a fight breaks out and someone gets hurt, it will be even more troublesome and affect the filming schedule."

In Peng Peng's naive mind, this was just a slightly excessive looting incident involving props. As long as no one was hurt, the loss of some props was something the production team should worry about.

........................................

Li Mo'an stood there, his posture upright. Although his training uniform was covered in dust, it did not affect his unique and calm demeanor at all.

He looked calmly at the group of frenzied villagers in front of him, and then at Peng Peng, whose face was full of anxiety.

"Let them take it?"

Li Mo'an frowned slightly.

His gaze fell once again on the pile of items that were being fought over.

Instantly, the top-tier mine clearance and explosives disposal skills in my mind started working automatically.

As far as the eye could see, streams of light blue data cascaded down like a waterfall.

[Item: Type 97 Land-based Bomb (Type 6)... Fuze corrosion level: 78%... Internal picric acid crystallization state: Relatively stable...]

[Item: Type 99 hand grenade... firing pin spring malfunction...]

[Item: Type 93 anti-tank mine... trigger mechanism jammed...]

The massive amount of data quickly constructed a comprehensive security assessment model in his mind.

"Since everyone wants it so much..."

Li Mo'an pondered for a moment, then nodded, feeling that Peng Peng's words made some sense.

Since these things are just sitting there anyway, we might as well let the villagers use them to make the most of them. As long as we keep the risks under control, there shouldn't be any major problems.

So he took a step forward.

Take a deep breath.

Sink your Qi to your Dantian.

"Don't fight over it!"

........................................

These three words were spoken in a loud and clear voice.

It was like a thunderclap, exploding above the noisy crowd.

The villagers, who had been pushing and shoving each other, froze at the shout and instinctively stopped, turning to look at the young man who hadn't said much.

Li Mo'an calmly surveyed the crowd.

His eyes were calm yet deep, causing the several middle-aged women who were leading the grabbing to unconsciously loosen their grip.

Seeing that the situation was somewhat under control, Li Mo'an didn't waste any words.

He stepped into the middle of the pile of iron, bent down, and began sorting it with practiced speed and skill.

"This won't do."

He casually tossed aside an aerial bomb whose fuse looked particularly sensitive.

"This one won't do either."

Another shell that may have contained chemical fuse residue was discarded.

He moved very quickly, like picking through rotten leaves at a vegetable market.

In a short while, he cleared out a small pile of specific stock from the large mixed pile of explosives.

This pile mostly consists of those with thick cast iron shells, completely rusted fuse structures, and the most stable internal explosive properties.

After finishing all this, Li Mo'an straightened up, pointed to the small pile of safety products he had professionally certified, and said to the villagers who were watching eagerly:

"These are all we have; we can use them as hammers."

He then pointed to the large pile he had removed from the side, his tone calm:

"Anything else, let's avoid them. Those have bad tempers."

The villagers looked at each other in bewilderment.

Although they didn't quite understand what "bad temper" meant, they still had some doubts when they saw Li Mo'an's serious and professional demeanor.

"This young man is quite nosy."

The old man who had tried to use the landmine as a stool muttered something, but he obediently put down the big thing you were holding and instead reached for the things Li Mo'an had specified.

After all, the young man's shout just now was quite intimidating, and he looks so decent that he doesn't seem like a bad person.

As people began to line up again to collect the designated products, order was restored somewhat.

Li Mo'an did not give up.

He watched as a middle-aged man happily stuffed a hammer into his clothes, and suddenly added:

"And there's a rule."

The middle-aged man was taken aback: "What rule? I have to pay?"

"I won't pay."

Li Mo'an looked at him, then at the others, and said earnestly in an extremely calm tone, yet as if announcing some kind of judgment:

"These hammers can only be used for three days."

"Three days."

He held up three long, slender fingers and waved them in the air, emphasizing:

"They must all be returned and placed here in three days."

........................................

The villagers were all a little confused when they heard this.

What kind of bizarre rule is this?

Do props have an expiration date? Or is this some kind of new rental service that the production team has come up with?

"Why?" someone couldn't help but ask.

Li Mo'an looked at the man and calmly gave a reason that sounded absurd to everyone else, but which he himself found perfectly scientific:

"Because the structure will become unstable after three days."

"If it's not returned..."

He paused, his tone remaining perfectly calm and even:

"It will still explode."

"..."

Another eerie silence fell over the scene.

Then.

"Pfft."

I don't know who laughed first.

Immediately afterwards, a burst of cheerful laughter erupted from the crowd.

"My goodness, this young man is really into his role!"

"Explode in three days? Did you set an alarm clock for this metal lump?"

"Okay, okay, three days it is! Whatever you say!"

The villagers laughed and shook their heads at the same time.

In their view, the young man was just making up a lie to scare people in order to maintain the props management of the production team.

Another explosion?

If it could explode, it would have exploded long ago. Why wait three days?

However, since they had already agreed to let us take it, and even specified which pile we could take, everyone went along with it and gave them face.

"Alright, young man, I'll bring it back to you in three days! By then, I'll give it back to you sparkling clean. I'll polish it for you in these three days."

The uncle, having received the mortar shell, cheerfully agreed, but in his heart he was thinking: "Whether he'll return it or not, that's another story."

Although the villagers were still mocking Li Mo'an for being too immersed in the role, their hands were moving quickly.

They prioritized taking the pile that Li Mo'an had designated, since the young man looked serious, and taking what he specified seemed more compliant with regulations.

In no time, the small pile of safety-certified hammers was completely devoured.

Everyone carried their spoils, some on their shoulders, some in their arms, and dispersed contentedly, laughing and joking.

In the setting sun, their shadows stretched long.

Nobody took the three-day warning seriously.

No one knew that what they were holding in their arms was death itself, a force capable of uprooting their house and its foundation.

Li Mo'an stood there, watching the villagers' departing figures, and calmly patted the rust dust off his hands.

He didn't see anything wrong with letting them take it.

On the contrary, he felt he had handled it perfectly.

"Based on the calculations just now, although the internal explosives of those bombs were severely passivated after being buried underground for a long time, their crystalline structure would slowly shift under frequent mechanical impacts."

He silently reviewed the data model he had just seen.

"Based on the frequency with which villagers use it for everyday tasks like cracking walnuts and hammering nails, the average number of times it's struck per day is calculated."

"The structural stability of those bombs is sufficient to maintain their position for about four days."

Four days is the critical point.

What he just said was three days.

This means that during these three days, no matter what the villagers do, as long as they don't throw things into the fire, they are absolutely safe.

A full day's worth of safety margin has been provided.

"Let them bring it back in three days; there's definitely no danger then."

Li Mo'an blinked calmly, inwardly praising himself.

"I'm simply a genius."

"Too sensitive to danger."

In reality, the matter of the goods being returned by the military...

In particular, the assessment of him by his former military colleagues that he lacked sufficient awareness of danger was a significant blow to him.

Therefore, he always wanted to prove that he was quite perceptive of danger.