Chapter 19: Mechanic's Skill: Surface Probe Endoscopy

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The invitation card bore the following information:
Copy Name: Abandoned Ancient Mechanical Factory (Remaining Challenge Attempts Today: 0)

Having finished today’s run, Lin Bo once again dragged a pile of scrap metal out of the teleportation portal. For him, this was the most exhausting part of the entire run—the mechanical guards caused him more trouble after being knocked down than when they were active.

He removed his mask to wipe the sweat from his brow, exhaling deeply before glancing at his player panel.

Currently, he had 268 Disaster Coins, accumulated 1,085 experience points, and still needed to cover four-fifths of the way to level up. It would take roughly eight consecutive days of running maps at Hell difficulty to gather enough.

If he couldn’t obtain higher-level Echo Relics, his profession level would be permanently capped at level 4. But such matters depended on fate; there was no need to rush.

Lin Bo still had a large number of skills to train and many affairs to handle. At worst, while collecting Echo Relics, he could shift his focus to these tasks and would not waste his time.

Running maps at Hell difficulty was still demanding. The short rest after each run lasted just over three hours. Starting from morning, it was now nearing evening—feeling much like a regular workday.

Fortunately, the skill proficiency gained from real combat was significantly greater than from ordinary training, so it didn’t conflict with Lin Bo’s schedule.

After giving the heaps of scrap to a helpful online friend, Lin Bo spent some time cleaning the third-floor workspace of the lighthouse, organizing miscellaneous items, and freeing up a small area of just under four square meters to serve as his future mechanical workshop.

It was modest, mainly because the lighthouse’s diameter was less than six meters, leaving little usable space.

The first floor was the storage room, kitchen, and tool room—largest in space but also most cluttered. The second floor was the living area, with a ceiling height just over two meters, essentially a mezzanine; it held few items but felt cramped.

The third floor housed the generator and rotating mechanisms, which were sizable but still left some room.

From now on, the mechanical workshop would be on the third floor, while potion brewing would concentrate on the first floor, adding a few cauldrons and a medicine stove to the kitchen, completing the setup.

[Network Notification: Received a friend message]

[Picking Up Trash Brings Me Joy]: Finished running the map? Come get your mechanical scraps I’m holding onto—they’re taking up space.

Lin Bo thought that was true—otherwise, he wouldn’t have dumped all the scrap on this person in the first place.

Three sets of Sword Guard remains were piled in the workshop area. Their fatal wounds were similar, all telling a story of the opponent’s ruthlessness.

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But now Lin Bo was no longer the ruthless killer; he was a mechanical doctor saving lives. Looking at the results of his actions, his scant knowledge left him at a loss.

[Picking Up Trash Brings Me Joy]: Those three remains are for you to practice on. Don’t think it’s complicated—it’s actually a process even children understand: disassemble the machine, pick out usable parts, and reassemble.

For a seasoned mechanic, disassembling machines was the first step toward cloning, and cloning was the first step toward independent research—the difficulty increased step by step.

Disassembly and reassembly was indeed a process even children understood, but the actual operation was far from as simple as the netizen suggested.

Lin Bo felt no sudden enlightenment from the online friend’s words.

He had hardly ever been involved in crafts; assembling battery-powered cars as a child was about the closest he had come to mechanic work. How close? About as relevant as pinching three pencils between his fingers to cosplay Wolverine.

The universal toolbox the netizen gave him contained many tools that were all novel to Lin Bo, unused and unfamiliar. Yet holding them sparked an urge to create something.

Perhaps touching tools triggered some deep-rooted code in humans.

With this innate enthusiasm, dismantling the Sword Guard remains became something he eagerly anticipated.

Before starting, Lin Bo contacted the merchant.

[Lighthouse Guest]: I want to buy a skill book for “Surface Touch Endoscopy.”

[Agilent]: Shipping now—your favor costs 75 Disaster Coins~

A round silver lens fell out of the ocean-blue space-time channel, etched with fine script. As Lin Bo studied it carefully, the lens dissolved into flowing light and entered his brow.

Surface Touch Endoscopy: Lv1 (0/60) - By touching the surface of an object, probe for internal damage.

This was a skill that enhanced tactile perception. For a mechanic, being able to detect internal damage without disassembling the machine was immensely useful.

Lin Bo felt the subtle changes brought by Surface Touch Endoscopy. As the skill book’s knowledge entered his mind, a cool sensation flowed from his brain through his limbs, gathering in his hands, especially the palms.

He raised a hand to catch a breeze; the airflow scattered through his fingers, but in the instant he clenched his fist, there was a tangible sense of grasping something. This was the experience of enhanced touch—even ephemeral, formless wind seemed to reveal its texture to him.

The three Sword Guard remains lay on the floor. Lin Bo pressed one with his left hand while holding a small hammer in his right, gently tapping the casing to send vibration waves through the remains, feedback returning to his hand.

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The vibration waves weakened or disappeared in certain areas, indicating structural gaps—possibly breaks from damage or voids present from the start. He couldn’t be sure.

To confirm his hypothesis, he would need to actually open the machine and inspect. If correct, it would be a successful skill use; if wrong, it would be futile effort.

This judgment needed to be precise and unambiguous. Through persistent training, one gradually accumulated seasoned experience and developed keen insight.

An inexperienced new mechanic, even after inspecting dozens of old machines, might rarely succeed.

Lin Bo remained patient, repeatedly tapping the Sword Guard remains with the hammer. Two minutes later, he fell into a deep silence, half-immersed in the Black Serpent meditation technique.

The once brief and chaotic metal vibrations became orderly and steady, revealing to the practitioner the exact locations of broken gears and burned circuits inside.

Unlike mechanics who relied on experience to interpret vibrations, Lin Bo, despite his limited mechanical knowledge, only needed to listen to discern the secrets buried beneath the shell.

He put down the hammer and picked up a screwdriver and wrench to begin dismantling the Sword Guard casing.

After considerable effort, Lin Bo roughly disassembled the Sword Guard, enabling him to compare the actual damage inside with his detection results. Each successfully detected damage triggered a proficiency growth check.

[Skill Check Success, Surface Touch Endoscopy base proficiency +1.5]
[Health Status Coefficient ×1.4 (Excellent)]
[Final Calculation Result: Surface Touch Endoscopy proficiency +2.1]

The five pieces of mechanic’s prefix equipment Lin Bo wore increased his base proficiency gain in mechanical skills by 0.5. Combined with the health coefficient boost, each check reliably increased proficiency by 2.1 points.

In just one hour since starting the disassembly, his Surface Touch Endoscopy proficiency reached 23.1—a speed hard to believe. By comparison, one whole day’s hard practice in Mantra Mastery only yielded a little over ten points.

Lin Bo’s heart skipped a beat; it seemed the first to reach Lv2 might not be the much-anticipated “Pharmacist Tongue Recognition” after all. Surface Touch Endoscopy had real potential for a shortcut.

Naturally, the driving force behind this was the “Listener of All Things” class trait, which was unbelievably powerful.