Chapter 17 Tonight at 8 PM, witness the birth of art.

While the atmosphere in the desert headquarters of Middle East was oppressive and filled with suspicion, the Li Family Toy Factory in Baishui City, Lu Province, presented a completely different scene.

That production line, which everyone considered a "Frankenstein's monster," was operating at an efficiency that surpassed all imagination.

"Buzz— Buzz—"

Accompanied by a low, rhythmic hum of electricity, precision-machined parts moved through the crisscrossing conveyor belts and robotic arms as if they had been given life, flowing seamlessly into different assembly stations.

Carbon fiber shells snapped perfectly onto internal keels, high-precision motors were steadily embedded into rotor bases, and flight control motherboards glowing with a faint blue light were accurately installed in place...

The entire process was almost completely automated. Workers only needed to assist and perform quality checks at a few key nodes. Most of the time, they felt like they were visiting a sci-fi movie set, staring blankly as the machines they had assembled by hand created "miracles" with an efficiency they couldn't comprehend.

In just over a day, thousands of "toy swarm drones," their appearance full of sci-fi and violent aesthetics and gleaming with a cold metallic luster, already lay quietly on the warehouse shelves. Each one looked as if it had come off the assembly line of a top-tier military factory, filled with a cold sense of order and a lethal attraction.

Li Jiajun stood at the warehouse entrance, looking at the "steel swarm" he had created with his own hands, and nodded with satisfaction.

'Hmm, artworks, ready.'

He took out his phone, leaned against the doorframe, and slowly composed a post.

He first posted a preview on his livestreaming platform account and then synchronized it to the Social Media Platform, Douyin, and every other social media outlet he could think of.

[Little Factory Director Li]: Thank you, family, for your three days of waiting and support. The toy swarm drone swarms are ready. Tonight at eight, same old place, be there or be square. Let's witness the birth of art together! #IndustrialArt #HighEndCustomToys

He thought for a moment and added a picture. The image didn't reveal the specific look of the drones, but was a close-up shot—against the dark warehouse background, rows of blinking blue indicator lights on the drones converged into a dreamlike blue galaxy.

This seemingly ordinary preview exploded across the online world the moment it was posted!

"Holy crap! It's here! It's finally here!"

"Three days! Do you know how I've spent these three days? I've rewatched the video of the Main Streamer's 'magically modified' production line at least eighty times!"

"Eight o'clock tonight! A must-watch!"

After the repeated bombardment of the "sky-high deposit" and the "magically modified production line" over the past few days, the number of followers in Li Jiajun's livestream room had already surpassed the tens of thousands mark. Now, no one dared to easily look down on this seemingly ordinary toy factory director anymore.

The online debate had also reached an unprecedented fever pitch.

The "Special Effects Faction" remained steadfast.

"Brothers, don't be bluffed by him! I'm still saying the same thing: a badass production line doesn't mean the product is badass!"

"Exactly! His previous dismantling of machines and stitching things together was just a piece of performance art! Tonight's livestream is just the finale of that art! Everyone just watch for the fun of it, don't take it seriously!"

"That production line from before was also special effects."

Meanwhile, the Realist Faction fought back with even stronger firepower.

"Are those upstairs still being stubborn? You probably haven't seen how much the Main Streamer spent on equipment, have you? Spending five million in deposit just to put on a show for you? Do you think the Top Supporter is a philanthropist?"

"Exactly! I bet fifty cents it'll definitely be a physical demonstration tonight! I even suspect that 'swarm algorithm' the Main Streamer drew before is real! I want to see where you 'Special Effects Faction' people hide your faces after tonight!"

The intensity of this debate even attracted the attention of major platforms. Some tech media and digital bloggers with a keen sense of smell also joined in, stating they would provide full coverage and analysis of tonight's livestream.

For a moment, the eyes of the entire internet were focused on this small toy factory in Baishui City, Lu Province.

Li Jiajun looked at the soaring number of comments and reposts on his phone, a smirk like a crafty businessman appearing on his face.

'The higher the hype, the more valuable my product becomes.'

He hadn't forgotten the true purpose of this endeavor; he opened the black encrypted chat software and sent a private message to "A White Cloth on the Head."

Little Factory Director Li: "Dear Big Brother, your artworks are ready for their debut performance. Tonight at eight o'clock sharp, please come to my livestream room to enjoy. I hope this performance will be worthy of your generosity."

...

In the headquarters deep in the desert of Middle East.

The adjutant was anxiously reporting the latest battlefield developments to Hassan; Israel's armored units had launched another fierce attack on one of their outposts, causing them heavy losses.

Just as the atmosphere in the tent was incredibly heavy, Hassan's computer made a sharp "ding-dong" sound.

Both turned their heads to look at the same time.

Hassan walked over and clicked on the message from "Little Factory Director Li."

When he saw words like "debut performance" and "enjoy on time," Hassan's lips almost twitched. His previous claim about being an artist was just a random excuse, but now, this kid was clearly getting into character.

His wording had also become quite flamboyant.

However, on the surface, Hassan remained expressionless. Looking at the message, he stayed silent for a long time, his tense face showing no emotion.

He turned to the adjutant and ordered, "Pass the word down, aim our most powerful satellite signal receiver toward the Eastern Country and connect it to this computer. Also, call all the tactical analysts over."

The adjutant was stunned: "Leader, this is..."

"Eight o'clock tonight." Hassan's gaze returned to the screen, his eyes complex, containing both a final glimmer of hope and the resolve to accept the worst outcome.

"I will personally critique this five-million-dollar... artwork."