Chapter 135 The Cultivation Craze in the Lighthouse Country

Night falls in the Upper East Side of Big Apple City.

Mr. George White, a stockbroker on Wall Street, is sitting cross-legged on his living room carpet, wearing thin silk pajamas.

In front of him sits a "forest oxygen bar" he just rushed to buy.

The fan is turned to the highest setting, blowing cold air onto his face with a whoosh.

With a solemn expression, George opens the "Cultivation Manual" that came with the fan— "Breath Regulation Method".

"Inhale—imagine a purple Eastern energy rushing straight to the crown of your head along your nasal cavity..."

George takes a deep breath, and his mind immediately fills with images of the snow-capped Himalayas.

"Exhale—expel all the turbid air, stress, and fear within your body..."

George lets out a long breath.

A miracle happened!

Under the high-concentration bombardment of the negative ion generator, the originally stuffy indoor air indeed became a bit fresher.

Coupled with the increase in blood oxygen levels from deep breathing, George actually felt his mind clear up.

Even the migraine that had plagued him for days seemed to have eased!

"My God!"

George opens his eyes, looking at the black machine in front of him, his eyes full of shock.

"There really is Qi! I felt it! This is the magic of the East!"

He excitedly picks up the phone and dials the number of his sister's house next door:

"Hi, Peggy! Stop sleeping, get up and cultivate!"

"Come to my house quickly! I've discovered the ultimate secret of the East!"

"Really, I feel like my soul just ascended!"

That night, in countless households across the North American continent, thousands of Georges are facing electric fans, performing a collective "cultivation" ritual.

They firmly believe that every breath of wind they inhale is not just wind, but a ladder to longevity and health.

Walmart Headquarters.

The marketing director stares at the sales report in his hand that is skyrocketing like a rocket, his whole person falling into a stupor.

"This is not scientific..."

He mutters to himself, pulling at his already thinning hair,

"It's not hot at all this year!"

"Why are the fan sales at Sears Department Store even higher than the same period last year?!"

"Last year could be attributed to the heatwave."

"This year is a rare 'cool' summer!"

"And the price actually rose to 129 dollars?!"

"Have those consumers gone crazy?"

The assistant swallows and carefully hands over a newspaper:

"Sir, according to the investigation... they aren't buying electrical appliances."

"Then what are they buying?"

"They are buying... a Spirit Gathering Array."

The assistant swallows and points to a candid photo in the newspaper.

In the photo, a Hollywood superstar is meditating with his whole family in front of a "forest oxygen bar" with a solemn expression.

The director's hands are trembling.

He understands motor principles, fluid mechanics, and even cutting-edge marketing models.

But he really doesn't know how to compete with "metaphysics"!

Who can handle this?

Northwest, China, Aerospace City Communications Room.

Lin Xi holds the receiver half a meter away from his ear.

Even so, Harrison's nearly manic roaring is still clearly audible, shaking the teacups on the table.

"Lin! Lin! You are not human!"

"You are a devil! A marketing devil sent by God to punish our wallets!"

"Two hundred thousand units! A full two hundred thousand units in stock!"

"Two weeks! Just now, the very last sample was snatched away by that damn Congressman!"

"Now all the air in the Lighthouse Country is under your control!"

"I want to place another order for three hundred thousand units!"

"Lin! You are my god!"

Harrison is incoherent.

In the communications room, Zhang Zhengguo, Sun Erga, and Klaus, who just walked in, are all looking at Lin Xi with eyes like they are looking at an alien.

A book of nonsense.

A pile of incoherent articles.

A photo that looks like a charlatan no matter how you look at it.

Plus a fan with no technical upgrades other than the installation of a negative ion generator.

It actually fooled the Lighthouse Country, which claims to have the most advanced technology and the highest national quality, into being crippled?

What kind of fairy tale is this!

Lin Xi's expression is calm, and he even has the leisure to blow away the tea leaves floating in his cup.

"Robert, calm down."

"Remember the soft article strategy I told you about, don't stop."

"Take advantage of the explosion in popularity, edit user experiences into articles, and send them out. This is word-of-mouth marketing."

"I feel that the fan category might break through seasonal barriers."

"After all, with cultivation, who says you can only cultivate in the summer?"

"Winter requires even more 'spiritual energy' to protect the body, right?"

After speaking, Lin Xi hangs up the phone cleanly.

There is dead silence in the communications room, only the sound of everyone swallowing saliva.

"That..." Sun Erga swallows and asks cautiously,

"Manager, what are we doing next? Should we go to the Lighthouse Country to open a Qigong class?"

"Open what kind of class?"

Lin Xi stands up, adjusts his collar, and casts his gaze toward the workshop not far away.

Marketing is just a means.

It is to snatch back the capital for development from those arrogant Westerners.

Harvest their dollars to forge our country's heavy machinery.

"Let's go."

Lin Xi walks out with big strides.

"To the constant temperature workshop."

"Our big baby should be about ready."

Constant temperature workshop, you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone is wearing sky-blue one-piece anti-static clothing, wearing hoods and shoe covers, only showing their eyes.

At this moment, no one speaks; they all quietly watch the center of the workshop.

That is a medium-sized precision CNC machine tool.

3.5 meters long, 2.5 meters wide, 2.2 meters high.

It doesn't have the streamlined plastic casing of Western machine tools, nor any flashy decorations.

At the very bottom is the eight-ton "quancheng green" granite base.

The whole body is black and shiny like ink, with a few white stone veins left by geological movements billions of years ago faintly visible.

And above the black rock, the spindle box and the turret are painted in the color unique to that era—military green.

The matte green paint is cold, hard, and murderous.

The fusion of black granite and green steel creates an extremely violent visual impact.

It is both retro and carries a sci-fi feel that transcends the era.

The base adopts a box-in-box structure, hollowed out inside, and integrates a static pressure oil pool.

The X-axis slide ram floats on the static pressure guide rail, and no contact can be seen with the naked eye.

On the four-station turret, a turning tool glitters with a cold, murderous light under the shadowless lamp.

It silently points at the spindle, like a cold swordsman waiting to be unsheathed to draw blood.

And on the side of the machine tool, two silver-white grating rulers are particularly eye-catching.

On the grey control cabinet on the far right, the 12-inch display screen glows with a faint green light.

The cursor jumps rhythmically on it, as if it were the heartbeat of this machine.

Lin Xi takes a deep breath, scans the audience, and his voice is low:

"Report!"