Chapter Twelve: Repair

Apollonia’s gaze remained fixed there, never wavering.

“Hey... hey! I’ve been calling you for a while, and you haven’t responded at all?”

“Ah? What’s the matter?”

“I’ve got the work permit ready. What are you spacing out for?” Shang Luo was already standing in front of her, holding a brown paper bag, and had just taken Apollonia back from the guard.

“Did you see a group of people dressed in black just now?”

“No, I didn’t. There are a dozen or so elevators inside; I can’t possibly run into everyone. Why, are those people a problem?”

“The Jinyiwei. They seem to have noticed me. Although they’re in plain clothes, their presence fills me with dread... Where are we going now?”

“To the workshop. With a work permit, I can borrow a workstation and use the equipment inside. We have to get there early—once the craftsmen finish work and head for lunch, I won’t be able to find anyone to get the keys from.”

He reached out and took Apollonia in his arms, holding her suitcase in one hand and the brown paper bag in the other, heading westward.

The rest of the way no longer required a guard to accompany them; he had already obtained the necessary work permit to borrow a workstation.

Without any issues, he found an old publication reporting on pi and directly confirmed Apollonia’s “authenticity.” The next step was simply to exchange the foundational elixir back. He quickened his pace toward the neighboring workshop district.

The Citadel’s population density was far greater than outside; thirty percent of San Francisco’s population was concentrated here. However, nearly everyone inside had their own work to do, and outside of breaks, it was rare to see anyone loitering on the streets. With only five minutes left until the noon break, Shang Luo quickened his steps. When work ended, no one stayed even a second longer in the workshop.

12:00

“Huff... huff...” Shang Luo leaned against the doorframe, gasping for breath. He had practically run all the way from the Golden Gate Hotel. Though it was only a few hundred meters, this distance far exceeded the exercise he’d had in days. Outside, the crowd was thickening as lunch break began. Sure enough, no one lingered after the bell—everyone headed straight to the Golden Gate Hotel a few hundred meters away.

The workshop district was located in the northwest of the entire Citadel. All workshops and factories were enclosed within this area, which had its own iron fence for protection. Within the Citadel were two residential areas for military craftsmen and a trade-and-storage zone near the docks. This zoning was simple and straightforward but adhered to ancient rites and almost perfectly replicated the layout of Western Zhou-era cities. Such citadels were scattered worldwide, each a military relic from the centuries-old “Great Righteousness War.” San Francisco Citadel was among the most dazzling masterpieces, around which the city of San Francisco—the jewel of the New Continent—had grown.

As a standard model citadel, San Francisco Citadel bore the strategic mission of the New Continent’s key military base, so it was equipped with every conceivable facility, including...

“Welding? You actually have electric welding here??? In Constantinople, electric welding is still confined to laboratories.”

From simple vises to milling machines, drill presses, lathes, grinders, and even a red-painted arc welding station tucked in the corner, this small workshop integrated almost every specialized tool a craftsman might need. With enough time and materials, it could manufacture any industrial product or provide exquisitely crafted parts for large equipment, like cells supporting a larger organism. In wartime, these cellular workshops could be linked in assembly-line fashion, producing everything from precision rifles to fine war vehicles. Each item was a high-performance masterpiece, every screw engraved with the craftsman’s name.

Isolated across the sea, San Francisco Citadel’s workshops were comprehensively outfitted. Even advanced equipment like arc welders was standard in every cellular workshop.

Shang Luo had come to borrow one of these.

Pulling down the rolling shutter, he hung his operation permit on a hook nearby.

“I... I’m a bit scared.”

“You’re still scared?”

“Wouldn’t you be scared about surgery? No anesthesia, and the chief surgeon can barely hold the scalpel steady. Are you sure this thing is reliable?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure either...”

It had only been three years since the invention of electric welding and merely five since the discovery of the electric arc. Each arc welder was invaluable. Yet the court never hesitated to invest in cutting-edge technology; even experimental devices that hadn’t been mass-produced were deployed on the front lines. And it was as easy as ten minutes to get a work permit and use one.

But could this thing fix the “Divine Machine”? Shang Luo himself didn’t know. He only knew this was the most powerful method he had for joining metals. Fixed electric welders were far stronger than handheld devices and could easily weld large metal components. He had tested the Divine Machine’s condition beforehand.

He had tried hammering nails and using glue before leaving. The brass heart of the Divine Machine was virtually indestructible. Small hammers and nails left no mark, and glue stuck only to his gloves. He even sprayed water on it—the shell didn’t even leave a water mark. The casing only looked like brass; physically, it was something else entirely.

“Though I’m uncertain, you can rest assured. The electric arc’s temperature rivals the sun’s surface; no metal exists that can’t be melted by an arc. Now, let me confirm your request—you want to patch this hole, right?”

“Yes. The fuel leak feels terrible, like... if I were to use an analogy, it’s like someone is slowly sucking your brain out through a straw. Please, even if it’s just with tape or something, you must seal that hole.”

“Tape won’t fix this.”

Shang Luo opened the box, placing the music box containing Apollonia on the welding station’s clamps, removing the yellow warning sign reading “High Voltage Danger.” He hesitated a moment—the situation was quite tricky.

He had tried quick-drying glue, adhesive tape, cyanoacrylate, every sort of adhesive—all failed. Even the strongest glue, which could tear skin when removed, just slipped off the Divine Machine like water droplets on a lotus leaf, then solidified quickly on the table.

The shell was unimaginably smooth—obviously not an ordinary material. It was clear that the material used to make this endless Divine Machine couldn’t be common.

But with enough force, even a pig can be blown away. Given sufficient power, even tungsten, which melts at 3,410°C, can be welded.

“So for your case, I can only bring out the big guns.”