Chapter 261: Flame Control: Olympic Torch Model

Zhao Xing sat on a stone bench in the Courtyard, holding the silver‑gray 3D printing pen in his hand. Sunlight struck the pen's body, reflecting a flash of light. He lowered his head and stared at the Desk, pushing the tip forward point by point, as the plastic filament gradually piled up into shape.

The torch's base had already emerged, its lines smooth, and the spiral ring at the tail was added by him. He hummed a song while drawing, the melody broken and intermittent, a few phrases he had heard on his birthday night. His finger suddenly trembled, and the material flowing from the tip changed color, from white to pale blue, then a wisp of fine smoke rose.

He didn't stop, continuing to trace the pattern.

Suddenly, with a 'Puff', a blue flame burst from the torch's tip. The flame was low, standing steadily at the model's mouth, as if supported by something, neither wavering nor dispersing. Zhao Xing blinked, reached his hand forward, and the flame tilted slightly with his motion, burning wherever he pointed.

System Prompt popped up: "Emotional resonance detected linked to historical keywords, triggering 【Flame Control Technique】. Can control flames below 1000 °C."

He grinned, having a figure in mind.

The fire didn't burn his hand, nor did it dart elsewhere, as if obeying him. He tried to suppress the flame with his mind; the fire instantly shrank into a small ball, like a wick in a lantern. Raising his hand again, the flame leapt two inches higher, burning brightly.

Footsteps came from the corner of the wall.

Special Forces walked in from outside the Courtyard, dressed in dark‑gray uniform, helmet properly worn, holding a Fire Extinguisher in one hand and a palm‑sized device in the other. He stood three meters away, the device aimed at the torch, the Screen flashing a few times, his brows knitting.

"It's you again," he said.

Zhao Xing turned his head, gave him a glance, and nodded: "Yeah, it's me."

"What's up with that fire…?"

"I made it," Zhao Xing handed the torch forward, "see, you can also adjust its size."

Special Forces didn't take it, but stepped back half a step and pressed the communication button on his wrist: "Target re‑activated an unknown energy source, form a blue stable combustion body, temperature reading within limits, requesting remote monitoring permission."

As soon as his words fell, Zhao Xing lifted his hand and gave a gentle wave. The flame scattered like ash blown by wind, breaking into several specks of light that floated in the air, vanishing after a few seconds.

"It's out," Zhao Xing said.

Special Forces stared at the empty space for two seconds, released the communication button, but didn't leave, staying where he was, eyes never leaving Zhao Xing's hand.

The Kitchen door swung open with a 'Clang'.

Sha Zhu burst out, one hand holding a cast‑iron pot, the other gripping a wok spatula. His hair was a bit messy, his apron specked with oil, sweat still on his face. He ran a few steps to the stone Desk, eyes wide as he stared at the torch model.

"Oh my god!" he shouted, "Was that blue fire you just made?"

Zhao Xing nodded: "Yes."

"It really can stay lit? No explosion? No black smoke?"

"It won't explode, and there's no smoke."

Sha Zhu set the iron pot aside, squatted down, his face close, examining the torch's mouth carefully. "Such a tiny opening, yet the fire stays steady—strange." He looked up, eyes shining, "Xing Xing, can you do me a favor?"

"Go ahead."

"Our roast duck shop never gets the heat right. The stove flickers, the duck skin ends up either burnt or soft. Your fire is so obedient, can you make me a spray gun? Just this size—" he gestured a mouth with his hand, "mount it on the stove; I press a button and fire erupts, as big as I want."

Zhao Xing thought for a moment: "It can be done."

"Really?" Sha Zhu sprang to his feet, nearly toppling the Desk, "Great! I knew it, your mind's sharp, you'll have a way! Tomorrow I'll order stainless‑steel pipe, you draw a diagram, and we'll start right away!"

"Don't rush yet." Zhao Xing reached out and touched the torch's base, "We need to test whether the material tolerates high temperature, and we also need a switch."

"Switches are easy!" Sha Zhu slapped his thigh, "I'll install a button, like a light switch—press it and it lights up!"

Special Forces stepped forward a pace: "Kid, this kind of energy output can't be used casually. Unapproved technical devices are not permitted for deployment."

Sha Zhu turned his head to him: "Who are you? Who's telling me about my stove?"

"I'm a regulator, responsible for public safety assessment."

"Oh, the police." Sha Zhu waved his hand, "Don't worry, my shop is right at Hutongkou, people eat here daily, never any incident. Besides, this fire is controlled by Xing Xing; if he really wanted trouble, he'd have burned my pot long ago, wouldn't he?"

Special Forces said nothing, just stared at Zhao Xing.

Zhao Xing looked up at him: "I don't make dangerous things."

"But you have already demonstrated abilities beyond the norm."

"But I haven't hurt anyone."

"The ability itself isn't the issue; the issue is the risk of loss of control."

"Then would you like to see how I extinguish it?" Zhao Xing said, closing his eyes, lightly retracting his fingers. The specks of light that had just vanished seemed to linger in the air, briefly coalescing, then disappearing completely.

Special Forces lowered his head to the device, the reading returned to zero.

He was silent for a few seconds, slung the Fire Extinguisher back onto his shoulder, but didn't leave, standing beneath a locust tree at the edge of the Courtyard, opened his bag, took out a folding stool and sat, continuing to stare this way.

Sha Zhu hummed: "What's with the swagger, sitting there like a door god?"

He turned back, squatted beside Zhao Xing, voice lowered: "Xing Xing, ignore him. Let's stick to our business. Take your time with the blueprint, no rush. Uncle will treat you to roast duck, double‑crisp skin, the perfect fat‑to‑lean ratio."

Zhao Xing smiled: "Alright."

He picked up the printing pen again and began drawing a new schematic. This time it was a short stem pipe, the front end equipped with a nozzle, the rear attached to a disc, like a tiny battery. As he drew, he explained, "We need to add a sensing zone here; I'll trigger it with my mind, so the fire can emerge. If someone else finds it, they can't light it."

"Exactly, exactly!" Sha Zhu nodded repeatedly, "That's the way! Safety first!"

"Also, the fire power has three levels. Low flame for defrosting, medium for preheating, high for coloring. You just press the button for different durations."

"Smart!" Sha Zhu slapped his thigh, "Much better than my old stove! From now on I'll brand it 'Tech Roast Duck', guaranteed fire!"

He grew more excited, stood up and paced back and forth: "Shall we make a logo? Draw you pointing with the pen, fire 'whoosh' out, and underneath write 'Sha Zhu Roast Duck, Full‑Power Fire'?"

Zhao Xing couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Special Forces coughed once under the tree.

Sha Zhu turned his head and glared, "Why the cough? Got phlegm? Go Home and spit it!"

The man ignored him, lowered his head and recorded on the Tablet: "Target demonstrates controllable energy output, application scenario is civilian cooking assistance, no offensive intent observed, recommend maintaining Level‑1 observation status."

Zhao Xing stopped paying attention to him, lowered his head and kept drawing. The pen tip glided, lines crisp. After each segment he paused to check, restarting if something was off. Sunlight fell on his back, his shadow shifting bit by bit.

A bicycle bell rang from Hutongkou; a passerby peeked, muttered "Here they go again," shook his head and walked away.

A while later, Aunt Jia passed by carrying a vegetable basket, also stopped to glance. She said nothing, only sighed, then hurried away.

The Courtyard fell quiet.

Sha Zhu sat on the opposite stone bench, dozing, his head nodding slowly. Zhao Xing finished the final stroke, gently set the pen down, and flexed his wrist.

He looked up at the sky.

The clouds were thin, and the sunlight shone straight down. He extended his hand, palm up, as if sensing the temperature.

The Special Forces team member stood up and lifted the device again.

Zhao Xing did not move, nor did he speak.

He only lightly opened his five fingers, and a cluster of blue flame silently materialized, hovering an inch above his palm, burning quietly.