Chapter 1: What? You say you scrolled through videos and found a mech master?

【Brain deposited, happiness multiplied by ten】

【This book is a work of urban fiction, unrelated to reality. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Please do not project, doge-head for self-preservation. jpg】

Summer in Yunchuan City was hot enough to bake oil out of the asphalt roads.

In the Industrial Development Section office, Feng Yan slumped in his ergonomic chair, feeling as if he were about to be pickled by the report in front of him.

"Research and Suggestions on the Innovation Capability and Characteristic Development Path of Small, Medium, and Micro Enterprises in Yunchuan City (Ninth Edition)."

He had revised it nine times.

Section Chief Wang had only rewarded him with nine words: "Content is solid, perspective is not new enough."

Translated into workplace jargon, that meant: Boring, rewrite it.

"Little Feng—"

Sister Liu from the opposite workstation poked her head over the partition, her smile bright enough to star in a toothpaste commercial.

"Can you do me a favor? I have to pick up my kid from an interest class tonight. Could you handle this quarter's industrial data summary for me? I trust you!"

Before the words had even faded, a stack of documents with curled edges—clearly thrown together at the last minute—landed with a "thwack," perfectly air-dropped onto Feng Yan's desk, which was already piled into a small mountain.

Feng Yan's eyelid twitched.

The refusal rolled around in his throat three times before he swallowed it back down, turning it into a listless:

"…Sure."

What else could he say?

In this section where everyone was a "master of slacking," "the capable do more work" basically meant "honest people do the labor, smart people pick the peaches."

He, Feng Yan, was the section's famous "workplace old ox," eating grass (the big pies drawn by leadership) and squeezing out… materials that could never be finished.

Diagonally opposite, the new guy, Xiao Zhang, wore noise-canceling headphones, his fingers rubbing the phone screen so fast it looked like sparks were about to fly.

On the phone screen, a massive game login interface flashed brilliantly; only the leadership couldn't see it.

After all, last week, when Xiao Zhang submitted a market analysis that relied entirely on imagination and guesswork, Section Chief Wang had beamed after reading it, praising him endlessly: "Young man, active thinking, very good!"

When it was Feng Yan's turn—a report written after visiting over twenty factories and checking piles of literature—there was only one comment: "Not grounded enough."

Grounded enough?

Feng Yan ranted crazily in his heart: 'Even the auntie selling pancakes at the entrance knows how to do livestream sales now, and you want grounded? Any more grounded and I'd be swearing brotherhood with the King of Hell!'

The clock hanging on the wall in the middle of the unit had just hit 6:00 PM.

The office instantly staged what could be called a "one-minute limit" performance.

Shutting down computers, tidying desks, making dinner plans… the movements were smooth and practiced, clearly honed through thousands of repetitions.

But the liveliness belonged to others.

Feng Yan only had the endless mountain of reports in front of him, along with the "data hill" gifted by Sister Liu.

He glanced at the corner of his desk with a look of despair.

That "Notice on Carrying Out the Investigation and Screening of Potential for Folk Characteristic Industries" was still quietly gathering dust.

Everyone in the section had initially treated it as just another "copy-paste" slacking task.

Until this morning, when Section Chief Wang called him into the office alone.

"Little Feng,"

Section Chief Wang held that thermos cup filled with goji berries, his tone as heavy as if he were handing out an inheritance.

"This screening is very, very important to the higher-ups. They specifically asked for real results and practical effectiveness!"

"I've observed for a long time; in our section, you are the most thoughtful and the most steady! You must take on this heavy burden!"

Feng Yan's heart "thumped" at that moment.

Great, this big, round, steaming pot was going to be strapped to his back again.

"Importance" in the mouth of a leader usually meant "difficult to handle and easy to take the blame for."

If others slacked off, nothing would happen.

But if he slacked off and the higher-ups did a spot check, he would definitely be the one taking the fall.

But if he really went looking for some folk characteristic enterprise with potential…

Where would it be that easy!

Any decent technical workshop had long been picked clean by all sorts of "gods."

As for the rest…

Should he really go under a bridge, find an old man welding stainless steel basins, and write passionately in the report: "Discovered the dawn of industrialization for folk metal forming art, suggest key support to create a new business card for Yunchuan basins"?

Just thinking about that scene made Feng Yan cringe so hard he could dig a three-bedroom apartment out of the floor with his toes.

Forget it, better to just lie flat.

At worst, he'd just submit the universal template: "After investigation, no major discoveries for the time being."

The rest would be up to fate!

He irritably pulled at his hair, feeling his already precarious hairline sending out an SOS signal.

To save the last few precious hairs on his head, he glanced left and right like a thief.

Coast clear!

With the hand speed of someone single for over twenty years, he fished his phone out of the drawer, unlocked it with his fingerprint, and precisely tapped on that colorful "Trembling Sound" (TikTok) app.

Slacking off is the last bastion for the working class to resist workplace nihilism.

Silly cat and dog videos.

Cookie-cutter transformation effects.

Pretty girls dancing.

All kinds of bizarre rants like "Family members, who understands this?"…

His fingers swiped mechanically, his brain temporarily shutting down in the fragmented joy.

His soul finally escaped from those damn "paths," "leverage points," and "empowerment."

Just as his eyes were glazing over, reaching a state of "forgetting both self and objects"—

A video with no filters and noisy background audio struck him like a bolt of lightning, waking him up.

The footage was shaking violently.

The background looked like a post-war ruin—cluttered warehouse, black oil stains everywhere, all sorts of metal parts and cables with names he couldn't identify thrown about.

But a beam of light, coming from who knows which ventilation shaft, hit a metal object like a stage spotlight.

It was a… mech helmet with an extremely hardcore design, lines full of mechanical violent aesthetics, glowing with a matte black finish, and one look told you it wasn't a toy!

The camera zoomed in sharply.

Scale-like overlapping armor plates reflected cold light.

Narrow, long red optical lenses looked like the eyes of a lurking beast.

On top of the head were two aggressive wolf-ear-shaped metal horns.

Holy crap, this texture, this detail processing—Feng Yan wouldn't believe it was one of those plastic pieces from a comic con that relied on lighting and Photoshop even if he were beaten to death!

The video didn't even have any explosive BGM.

Only the subtle "buzzing" of electricity in the environment.

And some kind of… "hiss-click" sound unique to hydraulic systems operating with a sense of precision damping?

Then, under Feng Yan's gaze as he subconsciously held his breath—

The armor on the chin of the helmet, accompanied by a crisp, clean "click" full of industrial aesthetic, slid downward as smoothly as a chocolate commercial, stopping steadily.

Revealing half of the operator's face.

Quite young, with sharp lines, and a corner of his mouth seemed to have a bit of uncleaned machine oil on it.

He looked at the camera, raised an eyebrow with a bit of pride and a playful "I'm the best" attitude.

The comments exploded instantly:

【Holy crap! So cool! This texture is amazing! Master, please accept my knees!】

【This hydraulic sound! Is it self-developed? So smooth! Steadier than the equipment worth hundreds of thousands in our factory!】

【Bet fifty cents, this is definitely not a prop! Whose prop uses real hydraulics and metal CNC? The cost would be sky-high!】

【Blogger, come out! What on earth is this thing? Can it move? Can it be worn? Link please! (Dreaming)】

【Is this a test video leaked from some mysterious lab? Blogger, are you safe? Do you need to call the police? (Doge-head for safety)】

【Don't panic, the one above. Looks like an individual master to me. This hands-on ability is heaven-defying!】

【Am I the only one who noticed the blogger's jawline is quite handsome? Tech otaku handsome guy is the best!】

【Blogger, look at me! I'm a student, send me one! (Manual funny)】

Feng Yan felt his heartbeat accelerate "thump-thump," his palms sweating a little.

Not because the design was cool.

But because when he was at Longcheng University, he had minored in mechanical engineering.

Although he ended up in an unrelated administrative job after graduation, those foundational skills hadn't been completely eaten by the dog.

The hydraulic damping sensation in that helmet's opening and closing was smooth to the extreme…

The industrial precision between the metal parts, seamless and integrated…

And the control board accidentally captured in the corner of the video, with wiring as neat as a textbook illustration, definitely not something bought off the shelf…

This thing definitely had real substance!

The vibe it gave off, that hardcore technical circle energy, was not something an ordinary model or prop enthusiast could have.

It even… had a hint of military-grade quality.

He immediately clicked into the publisher's homepage—

"Waste Iron Wolf."

The avatar was a wolf head drawn with simple lines, looking fierce.

In the list of works, only this one video hung there, like a silent fart—released and then gone.

The personal profile was blank, mystery maxed out.

Was it some super hardcore prop enthusiast who wasn't short on money and just doing it for the dream?

Or… was there really a folk god, in some god-forsaken corner, secretly making this kind of stuff that could reach the ears of the heavens?

A mix of professional pressure (if this screening task had no results, he'd definitely take the fall) and the excitement of discovering a new continent (how did this guy make it? This technical path is interesting!) scratched at his heart.

His fingers moved, and he clicked on the private message box.

He pondered the wording for a long time.

Couldn't be too official, afraid of scaring the person away; couldn't be too amateur, looking like a fool; and had to inadvertently reveal a "I understand you" signal.

Deleted and wrote, wrote and deleted, finally finalizing:

"Hello Master, accidentally scrolled to your mech helmet video, it's breathtaking! The design and production precision are beyond imagination, especially the hydraulic transmission and armor linkage structure, the detail processing is very professional."

"May I ask, is this just a static model for display, or a verification prototype that already has some head posture perception and environmental information interaction functions? Due to work reasons, I am currently researching local characteristic industrial and technical innovation potential, and I am very interested in your technical path and implementation method, believing it may have unique excavation value. Hope to have the opportunity to learn and communicate with you. Looking forward to your reply."

At the end, he hesitated, but still added his official work email suffix, half-revealing his identity to increase credibility.

He took a deep breath and clicked "Send."

Looking at the message showing "Delivered," Feng Yan waited for a few minutes.

The screen remained quiet; not a single reply.

He thought about it, it was normal.

This video looked like it had the potential to go viral, the private messages must be exploding, how could they reply so fast.

Maybe the master thought he was a scammer or a peer trying to steal technology.

He casually clicked "Follow," becoming one of the few hundred fans of "Waste Iron Wolf."

For the next two days, Feng Yan would secretly refresh his private messages and "Waste Iron Wolf's" homepage whenever he had a chance.

His heart felt like it was being scratched by twenty-five kittens—an unbearable itch.

But that "Waste Iron Wolf" seemed to have evaporated from the world, with no more news and no new updates.

"Looks like just asking online won't work,"

Feng Yan stroked his chin, staring at the fierce-cute wolf head avatar on the screen.

The internet is a mixed bag, so many scammers.

If I reveal my official identity directly, if it were me, I'd think it was a scammer and block them immediately.

Need to find a way to establish technical trust first?

How about… get familiar in the livestream room first, and then find an opportunity to reveal my identity once we're familiar?

He decided to wait patiently and see if this master would livestream.

On someone else's turf, you have to follow their rules.

Just as he was about to close the app and continue struggling with that "not new enough" report—

The phone suddenly "buzzed," and a system notification popped up:

【"Waste Iron Wolf" whom you follow has started a livestream!】

Feng Yan's eyes lit up instantly.

Holy crap! It's alive!