High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

The moment the numbers on the timer turned red, the assessment officially began.

Inside Simulation Training Ground 3, the atmosphere instantly grew tense.

Almost immediately, everyone’s eyes were drawn to Chen Gang.

The guy was just too dazzling.

Not only was he handsome, but his movements were as smooth as flowing water, exuding a professionalism that was a pleasure to watch.

He opened a silver, high-end toolbox.

Inside, various precision instruments, each gleaming faintly, were arranged in neat rows.

Chen Gang put on a pair of special Spiritual Energy Perception Gloves, picked up a probe, and began a sweep-scan of the "Hunting Falcon" fighter jet before him.

"BEEP—"

"BEEP—"

The crisp, rhythmic beeps of the instrument sounded out.

With each beep, Chen Gang would check off an item on his holographic data slate.

In less than ten minutes.

He had already located three deep-seated malfunction points.

In the stands, a spectating C Level Technician couldn’t help but gasp.

"That speed is just insane! Back when I was taking my C Level exam, it took me half an hour just to rule out the false positives. He diagnosed three issues in ten minutes?"

"Of course. Just look at who trained him," someone next to him immediately chimed in.

"Even those of us who’ve been doing repairs for five or six years can’t necessarily match Chen Gang’s fundamentals."

"Look at his disassembly movements—they’re textbook perfect. A hair more would be sloppy, a hair less would be a mistake!"

Listening to the rising and falling chatter around him, Zhang Yi stood at the edge of the field with his hands behind his back, a wide grin blooming on his face.

He wasn’t even really watching Chen Gang’s work.

Because he knew it was in the bag.

"Old Wang, you see that?"

Zhang Yi nudged an acquaintance next to him with his elbow, another C Level Technician leading a team.

"Now that’s what you call professional."

"Repairing aircraft is delicate work. It relies on scientific procedures and precision instruments."

"It’s not something you can compare to some back-alley methods."

As he said this, he deliberately raised his voice.

His gaze drifted pointedly toward Liao Ming.

Liao Ming ignored him.

He just stared intently in Han Feng’s direction, his palms slick with sweat.

He believed in Han Feng, but in a high-stakes situation like this, with all eyes on them, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t nervous.

Seeing that Liao Ming wasn’t taking the bait, Zhang Yi lost interest and turned to find the chief examiner, Zhao Yu, hoping for a few words of praise.

He also wanted to make a good impression on Engineer Zhao for his disciple.

"Engineer Zhao, look at this technique..."

Zhang Yi’s words caught in his throat.

Zhao Yu, who should have been at the chief examiner’s post, was gone.

Zhang Yi froze, glanced around, and then his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

He saw that Zhao Yu had, at some point, run to the other end of the field.

He was standing by the wing of Han Feng’s fighter jet.

He was leaning so far forward he looked like he wanted to press his face right up against Han Feng’s hands.

’What’s going on?’

Zhang Yi’s heart skipped a beat.

’Did that kid break the rules?’

’Did Engineer Zhao catch him red-handed?’

At that moment, Zhao Yu was already reeling from shock.

As a veteran B Level Engineer and an authority in the field... what kind of aircraft repair methods hadn’t he seen?

But he swore he had never seen anyone repair a jet like Han Feng.

This kid...

...wasn’t using any diagnostic instruments at all!

Han Feng was like someone taking a stroll through their own backyard.

He walked under the jet’s belly and gave the Armor plating a few pats.

He tilted his head and listened for a second.

Then, he grabbed a wrench and, with two quick motions—CLANK, CLANK—removed the cover plate.

He reached in, and in one motion, yanked out a worn-out gear.

Then, without even pausing, he turned and went to the landing gear.

He didn’t even squat down.

He tapped a specific spot on the hydraulic strut with the tip of his boot.

He confirmed a problem with the rebound damping.

And immediately squatted down to start disassembling the regulating valve.

No hesitation.

No troubleshooting.

No frowning over a data terminal, analyzing waveform charts.

It was as if he had an X-ray Hack enabled, going straight for the problem’s source.

What was even more absurd were his repair techniques.

Fixing aircraft was dirty, exhausting work.

Especially when it came to fine-tuning the Spiritual Energy Circuits, which often required carefully repairing Runes with a carving knife.

But Han Feng?

He wielded a screwdriver and a wrench, his hands weaving nimbly through the complex network of pipes and wires.

His movements were so fast they left afterimages.

The clasps, screws, and Rune Boards were so pliant in his hands they seemed to have a life of their own.

Snapping into place on their own.

This wasn’t aircraft repair.

This was a violent performance, filled with a brutal, industrial beauty!

Silky smooth.

Just too smooth.

His movements were unbelievably fluid.

At this moment, Han Feng entered a profound and mysterious state.

In his Perception, the fighter jet was no longer cold, hard steel.

It was a living being with a pulse and breath.

Where it hurt, where it was blocked, where it felt unwell.

The jet was clearly telling him through their link of Human-Machine Unity.

The complex Spiritual Energy Circuit Maps overlapped in his mind with the knowledge from *Spiritual Energy Engine Principles·Proficient*.

He didn’t need to calculate anything.

Because the answer was simply there.

Zhao Yu watched, mesmerized, even forgetting his role as the examiner.

He subconsciously wanted to get closer, to see just how this kid was doing it.

As Zhao Yu moved, the spectators in the stands also noticed something was amiss.

"Hey, look over there!"

"That guy, Han Feng... has he gone mad? How is he disassembling it so fast?"

"Holy crap! He’s not even looking at the schematics?"

"That’s the high-pressure Spiritual Power pump! If you take that apart wrong, it’ll explode!"

"Wait... he’s putting it back together? It’s already fixed? That took less than three minutes, from start to finish!"

The crowd began to stir.

The people who had been gathered on Chen Gang’s side, like iron filings drawn to a magnet, all rushed over to Han Feng.

They formed a crowd three layers deep.

Pang Hu squeezed through to the very front, holding a banner, his mouth hanging wide open as he watched Han Feng’s god-like performance.

"My god... has Fengzi been possessed by the God of Machines?"

Zhou Wen adjusted his glasses, his hands shaking so much he could barely hold his recorder steady.

"Fengzi isn’t usually like this in the dorms. Don’t tell me his true power was sealed away until he got this toolbox?"

Then, the most shocking moment of all occurred.

After finishing the physical layer of troubleshooting, Han Feng jumped directly into the cockpit.

And started the engine.

"VROOOOM—"

The roar of the engine filled the air.

Normally, when calibrating an engine, a technician would connect it to a bulky data analysis station.

They would fine-tune the parameters based on the waveform charts.

But Han Feng didn’t.

He leaned halfway out of the cockpit, his eyes closed.

Listening intently to the engine’s roar.

His right hand flew across several knobs on the control panel.

Three turns to the left, a half-turn back to the right, then a micro-adjustment of two clicks.

With his adjustments, the engine sound, which had been noisy and shaky, rapidly became pure and stable.

The change in the sound...

...was like a tone-deaf singer suddenly having their voice autotuned into a heavenly melody.

Zhao Yu stood to the side, the light in his eyes growing brighter and brighter.

He couldn’t help but take a step forward.

Wanting to see every single micro-adjustment Han Feng made with his hands.

As a veteran B Level Engineer...

...he knew all too well how difficult what Han Feng was doing truly was.

This was completely untethered from data.

An operation relying purely on an ultimate understanding of Mechanical Principles and terrifying Intuition.

’Is this what they call Talent?’

No.

This was a god-given gift.

The kind where Heaven not only gives you the food, but shoves the spoon right into your mouth!

Time ticked by, second by second.