Chapter 140 The "Fortress" Beneath the Scrap Yard

The jeep kicked up yellow dust as it charged into a large red-brick compound enclosed by barbed wire.

The driver, Xiao Zhang, slammed on the brakes, and the jeep came to a steady stop in the center of the yard.

"We're here," Zhang Zhengguo said.

Qu Weimin pushed open the car door, looked up, and squinted as he surveyed his surroundings.

In the corner of the yard, there were piles of rusted gears and broken bearing housings that looked like small hills, along with several old-fashioned belt-driven lathes that had been stripped down to their skeletons.

On the wall of the dilapidated tile-roofed house directly opposite, hung a mottled wooden sign with black characters on a white background: "714 Institute Scrap Material Transit Station."

A stray cat was lying on some rusted sheet metal, sunning itself.

It glanced at them lazily and let out a yawn.

Qu Weimin's heart sank instantly.

"Old Zhang, you didn't take the wrong road, did you?" Qu Weimin pointed at the sign, his voice trembling.

"Is this what you called... a place that can handle aerospace-grade precision machining?"

"A scrap collector's?"

Section Chief Wang from the Modu Machine Tool Factory, who was following behind him, had his brows knitted together in a knot.

He didn't dare speak directly to Zhang Zhengguo, so he leaned in close to Qu Weimin.

Lowering his voice, his tone full of anxiety, he said, "Director Qu, isn't this a joke?"

"Even our factory can't handle it."

"Can this open-air lot really grind out a mirror finish? Isn't this just delaying the mission..."

"What's the rush?"

Before Qu Weimin could speak, Zhang Zhengguo, who was walking in front, suddenly stopped.

The aura of someone long accustomed to being in a position of authority made Section Chief Wang shudder, and he forcefully swallowed the complaints that had reached his lips.

Zhang Zhengguo waved his hand and said, "Follow me."

Qu Weimin suppressed his anger and followed behind Zhang Zhengguo.

After walking just a few steps, a sense of incongruity struck him.

Although this dilapidated yard looked like a dump, wasn't there... a bit too many people?

Around the perimeter of the courtyard wall, a guard armed with live ammunition stood every ten meters.

It wasn't just ordinary sentry duty; they were fully armed.

The weapons in their hands had their safeties off, and their eyes scanned every corner like hawks.

They walked to an inconspicuous, rusted iron door in the corner.

Two guards immediately stepped forward and snapped a salute.

Their movements were uniform and carried a sense of lethal intent.

One of them even pulled out a handheld metal detector.

"Director Zhang, routine procedure," the guard said, expressionless.

"Scan," Zhang Zhengguo said, spreading his arms.

Beep—!

The detector swept over Zhang Zhengguo's belt buckle and emitted a sound.

The guard checked him carefully before letting him pass.

When it was Qu Weimin and Section Chief Wang's turn, the inspection was even more thorough.

Even the fountain pens in their briefcases were unscrewed to check if anything was hidden inside.

"This is just too..." Section Chief Wang was about to complain that this was pointless over-complication.

Was it really necessary to act like they were entering a vault just to see a pile of junk?

Click.

Zhang Zhengguo pulled a brass key from his waist and inserted it into the keyhole of the rusted iron door.

He gave it a hard turn.

The heavy iron door emitted a teeth-grinding friction sound and slowly opened.

Behind the door was not a warehouse, but a concrete corridor leading underground.

It was deep and cold.

Explosion-proof lights hung on the walls, emitting a pale, ghastly light.

A blast of chilly air surged from the opening, instantly dispelling the summer heat from everyone's bodies.

Qu Weimin was stunned.

This level of engineering... was definitely not something a scrapyard could have.

"Let's go, the real deal is down below," Zhang Zhengguo said, walking in first.

As they went deeper underground, the sense of decay quickly vanished.

In its place was an extremely oppressive sense of industrial order.

The floor had turned into smooth, self-leveling concrete.

Although the walls were still bare concrete, all the pipelines were laid out perfectly horizontally and vertically, as precise as the circuitry on a circuit board.

At the end of the corridor, a massive silver metal door blocked their path.

There were no handles on the door, only a red button.

Next to it was an embedded thick bulletproof glass observation window.

That cold, metallic texture formed a visually striking contrast with the broken bricks and tiles outside.

Section Chief Wang swallowed hard and instinctively shut his mouth.

"We're here?" Qu Weimin asked.

"Not even close," Zhang Zhengguo replied.

He walked to the wall nearby and pressed open a hidden compartment.

He pulled out several sky-blue jumpsuits and tossed them to the others.

"Change your clothes," Zhang Zhengguo said, pointing to the changing room nearby.

"Watches, keys, coins, pens, belt buckles... as long as it's metal on your body, take it all off and lock it in the locker."

Section Chief Wang paused, his movements hesitant.

He was a technical expert at the Modu Machine Tool Factory; usually, everyone treated him with politeness.

How did he end up in the Northwest, feeling like he was being treated like a thief?

He felt that this was a typical case of unnecessary over-complication—pure formalism.

But constrained by Zhang Zhengguo's status, he didn't dare to argue aloud.

He could only fumble with his watch strap, muttering under his breath, "When we do precision machining in Modu, we don't have this many rules..."

"What did you say?"

Zhang Zhengguo's hands, which were unbuttoning his shirt, paused.

He turned his head and swept a gaze like a torch over Section Chief Wang.

"Old Qu, does the person you brought have an issue with the dust-prevention standards?"

That look carried an unquestionable severity.

Section Chief Wang's hand trembled, and he almost dropped his watch.

He quickly forced an awkward smile.

"N-no, no, I'm changing, I'm changing right now."

"Old Wang, hurry up," Qu Weimin also glared at his subordinate and said in a low voice, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

Zhang Zhengguo snorted coldly.

As he nimbly put on the jumpsuit, he offered a reminder that seemed unintentional:

"Why can't your Modu Machine Tool Factory ever reduce the spindle runout? It's because your hearts aren't quiet enough, and the rules aren't strict enough."

"Here, dust is the enemy, and static electricity is the killer."

"Stop the nonsense; either strip down or get out."

These few sentences left Section Chief Wang's face flushed, yet he didn't dare utter a single word in return.

He could only obediently strip down to nothing.

Five minutes later, they had finished changing into full anti-static suits and hairnets.

They even had two layers of shoe covers on their feet, wrapped up from head to toe like rice dumplings.

Zhang Zhengguo walked to the metal door and pressed the red button.

Beep—

The airtight door slid open to both sides, revealing a narrow stainless steel corridor that only allowed one person to pass at a time.

Yellow footprint markers were painted on the floor.

"Step on it," Zhang Zhengguo said, taking the lead and standing still.

Qu Weimin and Section Chief Wang had just stepped on when the airtight door behind them slammed shut with a "bang."

The sealed space instantly fell into dead silence.

Section Chief Wang's heart skipped a beat, and a sense of claustrophobia welled up.

Before he could react, Boom—!!!

Dozens of nozzles suddenly popped open on the previously smooth stainless steel walls surrounding them.

A terrifyingly powerful blast of air instantly gushed out from all directions!

"Holy shit!"

Section Chief Wang, caught off guard, was nearly blown over by this strange wind.

The wind, carrying massive kinetic energy, slammed madly against their bodies.

Their jumpsuits whipped loudly, and the flesh on their faces vibrated.

This wind speed was definitely not something an ordinary industrial fan could produce!

Their ears were filled with a low, roaring sound, as if a jet engine were screaming right next door.

"What is this?!"