Freedom.
It was hard to imagine that one day, he would actually use that word on a Small Three-Wheeler. Yet aside from that, he did not know how else to describe it.
The engineers all dropped to the ground to inspect it. Those who could not get down simply had the vehicle hoisted up.
They had all been old foxes of the Wilderness for so many years; what strange tales had they not seen? Yet for a moment, they could not help staring dumbfounded. If they cast aside their preconceived prejudices, they could actually sense an indescribable beauty of industrial design in a Small Three-Wheeler.
Simple. Streamlined. Beneath that ultimate stinginess and ultimate omission, what followed was, astonishingly, terrifying adaptability and compatibility?
There was no need for sweeping modifications at all. Just swap out the frame, and it could perfectly accommodate almost every type of heavy phlogiston engine. At the same time, the driveshaft, suspension, and every other component could be seamlessly replaced with any part of the same model!
Even parts from different models would work.
Look at all that leftover space inside—you could practically race horses in there. If you had eaten your fill and had nothing better to do, you could even stack another two nitrous injection systems on top!
To a certain extent, with this frame in hand, you could assemble nearly any function you wanted a vehicle to have.
For a moment, amid their amazement and sighing, everyone found it almost impossible to restrain themselves.
Their hands began to itch!
They immediately started chattering over assembly and modification plans, or guessing at the design philosophy and intent—things like, "If I were Kong Ming, I would surely bury an ambush force here."
Only when Shang Tong Wen, waiting beside them for the result, looked so grim