Zong Shen shook his head.
Quite a few indigenous technologies were like this.
Advanced technologies always declined. He figured the big shots in the Lord System were probably regulating things behind the scenes.
He had noticed this long ago.
The Lord System's control could be said to be everywhere.
At that moment, Zong Shen stood inside the cluttered, dilapidated Workshop, the darkgold component in his hand heavy and weighty.
Its surface had been polished to an exceptional sheen, yet even in the dim light, it carried a distinctive muted golden luster.
He carefully studied the component's structure, examining every latch and every pattern.
The workmanship on this thing was fine enough to inspire admiration.
And it was indeed made from the same material as the [Dark Gold Mechanical Prosthetic (Gold)] on his own arm.
That cold, solid feel, along with its unique affinity for and tolerance of elemental mana, proved it.
Alexis Moran stood awkwardly beside the workbench, rubbing the hem of his greasy work clothes between his hands.
His gaze still could not leave Zong Shen's Darkgold Arm. The empty slots on it, as well as the nearly imperceptible fine inscriptions at its joints, all drew him like magnets.
After all, this was the craftsmanship of his ancestor, Almazbek Moran.
It was the crystallization of skills the Moran Family had inherited for a long time.
Yet now, only he remained to guard this cold, dilapidated stone house.
"Are you sure you're the only one left in the Workshop?"
Zong Shen set down the component, turned to Alexis, and asked again.
Of course, Zong Shen was not asking him for an answer. He merely wanted him to reveal more details.
Alexis gave a bitter smile. His shoulders drooped slightly as he leaned against the edge of a table piled with