The sun and moon alternated, and the lights were about to go out.
At midnight, an entire ethereal immortal mountain had sunk into the night. The land beneath the immortals' feet was deep, tranquil, and boundlessly vast, and atop one of its side peaks—
Inside a majestic hall dozens of zhang high, its dimensions beyond all common sense—
No candlelight was needed. Molten iron and crimson slurry flowed through an enormous furnace, casting a red glow several meters high across the broad hall floor. Looking upward into the darkness—
The outline of a colossal object could vaguely be seen.
Amid such an ancient and weighty scene, an image belonging to the realm of "science fiction" was particularly conspicuous: a work area surrounded by countless technological devices.
A researcher's upright figure stood in white, his hair and beard both snow-white, yet without the slightest sign of old age.
Schmidt held a data tablet, coordinating the massive quantity of parts and materials "produced" before a certain young man's departure, planning for a large-scale project that might last several years.
Then, in this moment when no one else was present and the hall had fallen into prolonged silence—
A carefree, lighthearted voice suddenly rang out with a smile.
"It's already this late. Mentor, aren't you planning to rest yet?"
The instant he heard that voice, Schmidt's fingers paused. He then turned to look at Qian Mian, pulled out his pocket watch, and spoke blandly without the slightest change in expression.
"There are still eight minutes until my rest time. Why have you come here at this hour?"
"No, it's just that with that young man gone, there's suddenly nothing to do at night. I wanted to find someone to talk to."
Unbothered by his indifferent attitude, Qian Mian smiled at Schmidt before him.