Just like that, it was eight in the morning.
Celestial Craft Group, Special Research and Development Workshop.
The air was filled with a pungent, acrid smell, mixed with the faint scent of blood.
When Han Feng pushed open the heavy alloy doors, he didn't see the sluggish, clock-watching scene he'd been expecting.
Instead, the place was in utter chaos.
Several interns in gray work clothes were scrambling to carry a stretcher outside. A young man lay on it, half his body scalded red by high-temperature steam, his skin festering as he groaned in agony.
Nearby, next to the X-01 Prototype, a ruptured high-pressure pipe was hissing, spewing white vapor.
Several researchers in pristine white lab coats stood beyond the safety line. With arms crossed, they pointed at the grimy interns, their faces feigning regret but betraying amusement.
"I told you, Advisor Han's new plan doesn't conform to the thermodynamic flow model. But they just had to force it."
