A system notification sounded.
Han Feng was stunned for a moment, then overjoyed.
'It worked!'
This system could not only turn piloting a plane into the Sword Control Technique, but it could even quantify learning from books!
'As long as it has a health bar... no, a progress bar, I can kill even a god, let alone master a single book?'
Han Feng immediately focused, his eyes glued to the contents of the page.
As he read and understood, the Skill Proficiency on his panel began to jump wildly.
[Skill Proficiency for Mechanical Maintenance Theory +1]
[Skill Proficiency for Mechanical Maintenance Theory +2]
[Skill Proficiency for Mechanical Maintenance Theory +5]
...
The rate of increase was terrifyingly fast.
Han Feng quickly realized what was happening.
It wasn't that his current learning efficiency was absurdly high; he was "cashing in" on his past efforts.
For the past three years, he had been studying day and night.
Although he hadn't been able to fully integrate the knowledge he had memorized, it was all stored deep in his memory.
Now, with the system's help, these scattered fragments of knowledge were rapidly consolidating and converting into tangible Skill Proficiency.
The progress bar shot up.
10/100...
30/100...
60/100...
Han Feng flipped through the pages faster and faster, causing even Xiaoli beside him to do a double take.
"Crazy, are you reading that book or fanning yourself with it?" Xiaoli nudged Han Feng's arm. "Can you even remember anything at that speed?"
"Just brushing up. Filling in the blanks."
Han Feng replied curtly without looking up.
His mind was completely focused on the steadily climbing number.
80/100...
90/100...
In just two short hours, the progress bar had soared to 95/100.
At this point, the feeling of rapid improvement finally began to slow down.
Every increase became incredibly difficult.
Han Feng slowed his pace, starting to think deeply about several difficult case studies in the manual.
For example, the issue of aging Spiritual Power conduction lines mismatching the Rune Array—this was the most common "chronic ailment" for a Falcon Fighter.
The solution offered in the book was to replace the lines.
In practice, however, due to cost or a shortage of parts, technicians often had to manually adjust the Rune frequency to compensate.
The book didn't cover the fine-tuning involved; it all came down to experience.
Han Feng closed his eyes, simulating the feeling of the procedure in his mind.
[Skill Proficiency for Mechanical Maintenance Theory +1]
It ticked up by another point.
Time passed, minute by minute, and snores began to fill the dormitory.
That guy Pang Hu had fallen asleep less than half an hour after picking up his book.
The book was still covering his face, his drool soaking the page on "Fuel Injection Systems."
Xiaoli and Zhou Wen were still trying, but they were both yawning.
Only Han Feng remained energized and excited.
98/100...
99/100.
It was stuck.
No matter how many times Han Feng reviewed the basic theories or even went through *Three Hundred Common Faults* again, the number stayed frozen at 99.
'Looks like this is the limit for rote memorization and armchair theorizing.'
Han Feng closed the book and rubbed his throbbing temples.
Theory was, after all, just theory.
To break through that final barrier and evolve from "Entry Level" to "Proficient" or even higher, what he needed wasn't more books, but hands-on practice.
Tomorrow's Falcon Fighter was the perfect opportunity for a breakthrough.
Staring at the progress bar that was just one step away from completion, Han Feng felt an intense itch of anticipation.
The system description did mention that every Skill upgrade would trigger a "Skill Implantation."
He was very curious what this so-called "Implantation" would be like when a purely technical skill was upgraded.
Could it be like in the novels, where countless pieces of maintenance knowledge and master-level craftsmanship would flood into his mind, turning him into a maintenance Grandmaster overnight?
The mere thought was thrilling.
From the top bunk, a drowsy Zhou Wen rolled over. Seeing Han Feng still spacing out under the desk lamp, he couldn't help but remind him, "Crazy, you're not sleeping yet? If you're tired tomorrow and your hands are shaking, it'll all be over."
"Going to sleep now."
Han Feng snapped out of it and smiled.
'He's right. Haste makes waste.'
Even with the system's boost, his body and energy were his most fundamental assets.
Since he was already stuck at a bottleneck tonight, pulling an all-nighter would be a waste of effort.
It would be better to rest up and show Old Liao what he could do tomorrow.
He turned off the desk lamp and climbed into his bunk.
In the darkness, the dorm was filled with the rhythmic snores of Pang Hu.
Han Feng lay with his hands behind his head, staring at the pitch-black ceiling.
An image of tomorrow's fighter, taken apart, already seemed to appear before his eyes.
'Falcon...'
'See you tomorrow.'
He recited the words in his mind, then closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
For a young man from the Outer City who had struggled on the edge of survival for three years, staying calm before seizing an opportunity had long since become an instinct.
...
The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, the door to Han Feng's dorm was kicked open.
"Get the hell up, all of you!"
"Big job!"
"If we're late, we won't even get any of the meat soup!"
Xiaoli stood at the door, full of energy, waving his treasured Spiritual Energy Power Wrench. His voice was loud enough to blow the roof off.
Pang Hu shot bolt upright in bed.
His eyes weren't even fully open, but he was already muttering, "Meat... my meat..."
Zhou Wen slowly pushed up his glasses.
He glanced at the two excited guys, then at Han Feng, who was already dressed and stretching, and shook his head helplessly.
'Last night's shot of adrenaline worked surprisingly well.'
After a quick wash-up, the four of them rushed out of the dorm and headed straight for the aviation division's hangar.
Along the way, Pang Hu was fantasizing about how to eat that pound of Iron Feather Bird meat.
"Crazy, do you think braised is better, or steamed?"
"Or maybe we could do hot pot?"
"Let's get our hands on it first. You're about to drool on my shoes," Xiaoli said with a look of disgust.
Soon, the four of them arrived at the massive hangar complex of the Celestial Craft Maintenance Department.
Dozens of huge, dome-shaped hangars were lined up in neat rows.
At this moment, the doors to all the hangars were open, and inside each one, a "Falcon" Fighter was parked quietly.
The air was thick with the mixed smell of heavy machine oil and dissipating Spiritual Power.
In the distance, the roar of engines and the clang of metal could be heard intermittently, filling the air with industrial vitality.
Not daring to delay, the four quickened their pace and soon found their mentor, Liao Ming, in Hangar Three.
Liao Ming was directing two transport robots to position a "Falcon" Fighter whose fuselage was covered in scratches and scorch marks.
"You're here?"
Liao Ming beckoned to the four when he saw them.
He pointed at the fighter in front of them, which had just been dragged back from a simulated battlefield, and got straight to the point.
"This is it. Your task for today."
Liao Ming's gaze swept across the four faces, his tone serious.
"This time, I won't interfere. I'll just watch from the side."
"Whoever can independently find and solve this plane's main problem, I will recommend them for the C-class Technician promotion assessment."
The moment he finished speaking, the eyes of Xiaoli, Pang Hu, and Zhou Wen lit up.
Their breathing quickened.