The sharp screech of metal grinding came to an abrupt halt.
Inside the workshop, converted from a discarded shipping container, Ling Feng held his breath. The black hair on his forehead was soaked with sweat and stuck to his skin, but his eyes, disturbingly bright, were locked onto the "Temperature-Controlled Heat Flow Device" before him—a machine pieced together from countless scraps of junk.
In his mind's eye, a conductor wire thinner than a spider's thread, guided by an invisible force field, was slowly navigating the labyrinthine energy circuits in the device's core.
This was the most critical step. The slightest deviation, and this creation, the fruit of three days of painstaking labor, would turn back into a worthless pile of junk with a wisp of smoke.
"...Go in."
Ling Feng forced the words through his gritted teeth. His mental energy focused sharply, and the tip of the wire embedded itself precisely into a port smaller than a pinhead.
Voom—
The device vibrated softly. A gentle orange glow emanated from the heat vents, and a current of warm air flowed out, dispelling the cold, metallic dampness of the workshop.
Success!
Ling Feng's tense body went limp in an instant. He collapsed onto a stool made from a block of compressed waste, gasping for air. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, making his head spin.
This was his daily life. As an unregistered scavenger in the "Rust Belt"—the lowest slum in the city—his only survival skill was to turn industrial waste, discarded from the wealthy and industrial districts and dumped like garbage, into something valuable.
"Temperature-Controlled Heat Flow Devices," "Automatic Water Filters," "Portable Lamps"... these were common household appliances in the civilian districts, but in the Rust Belt, they were luxuries worthy of envy. And it was all thanks to his innate mental power, which far surpassed that of an ordinary person.
He didn't know what level his mental power was, because children in the slums were not qualified to undergo an awakening or be rated. He only knew that this power made his senses incredibly sharp and his hands exceptionally steady, enough for him to complete the most precise disassembly and assembly jobs.
Beep... Beep...
On the device, the "Energy Lattice" that served as its power core suddenly began to flash a piercing red light.
Ling Feng's joy vanished, and his brow furrowed.
Out of energy again.
The energy lattices he dug out of scrap heaps were mostly inferior goods discarded by the rich districts, with very little power left in them. Powering the workshop's lights and tools, on top of testing new creations, consumed it at a rapid pace.
If he couldn't sell this heat flow device tonight and get enough money to buy a few second-hand energy lattices from the Ash Market, he would be back to working in the dark tomorrow.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The workshop's iron door, fashioned from a tank's armor plate, was pounded on thunderously. A gruff voice followed, "Feng-zi! Open up! I know you're in there, I can smell that motor oil stench of yours!"
Ling Feng rubbed his temples in resignation. In the entire Rust Belt, the only one who would greet him this way was that fatso, Shi Lei.
He dragged his tired body over and unlatched the door. A smell, a mixture of sweat and cheap meat, hit him in the face. Shi Lei's mountain-like body squeezed inside, making the already small workshop feel even more cramped.
"Damn, what new gadget have you cooked up now?" Shi Lei's eyes immediately fell on the still-glowing heat flow device, his saucer-like eyes full of amazement. "This thing looks way more advanced than the last one! Feng-zi, how does your brain work? I bet even those engineers in the rich districts aren't as good as you!"
"Cut the crap," Ling Feng said wearily. "Got any food?"
"Knew you'd be too busy to remember to eat." Shi Lei grinned, pulling an oil-paper packet from his clothes. Inside were two grilled, blackened, synthetic meat patties of unknown origin. He handed one to Ling Feng and stuffed the other whole into his own mouth, mumbling, "Hurry up and get something in your stomach. You heading to the 'Ash Market' again today?"
Ling Feng took the patty and began to wolf it down. The cold patty tasted like wax, but it brought some comfort to his empty stomach. He nodded. "The energy lattices are almost dead. I have to go."
Shi Lei's expression turned serious. "Then you'd better be careful. The 'Iron Fist Gang' has been targeting the gray market lately. A few people have been extorted by those scumbags. And that market manager, Zhao San, he's got a nose better than a dog's, always looking for trouble with unlicensed guys like you. Don't let the money you worked so hard for end up in their pockets."
"I know," Ling Feng's voice was calm.
The Iron Fist Gang, Zhao San... he knew these names, of course. In the Rust Belt, survival of the fittest was the only law; and in the Ash Market, on the fringes of the law, the rules were just tools to extort the weak.
But he had no choice.
After finishing the meat patty, Ling Feng carefully packed the Temperature-Controlled Heat Flow Device and a few other modified gadgets into a huge canvas backpack. These things were all he owned, his only hope of crawling out of this mire.
If he could just earn enough money to go to the administrative center and pay the exorbitant fees, prove that he had a "special talent," he might be able to earn contribution points and shed the status of a "criminal's descendant" that was branded on his very bones, and become a true civilian.
He habitually reached into his collar and gripped the jade pendant hanging on his chest.
The pendant was warm and smooth to the touch, the only thing his parents had left him. When he was a child, he heard them talk about an interstellar battlefield, about being wronged, but he was too young then. All he remembered was the look of despair in their eyes as they were taken away.
All these years, he had worn the pendant close to his skin. It had never shown any special properties, other than making him feel at ease.
But that was enough.
Ling Feng took a deep breath and tucked the pendant back into his shirt. He hoisted the heavy backpack and said to Shi Lei, "Watch the door for me."
With that, he pushed open the creaking iron door.
Outside was the eternal, dim yellow sky and the ever-present din of the Rust Belt. In the distance, the towering gray high-rises of the civilian district stood like an insurmountable wall, silent and imposing.
Without looking back, Ling Feng strode forward, into the jungle made of scrap metal, hope, and despair.