No one responded.
It was as if the "family members" too were weeping for the master's poverty.
The door opened behind him, and under the soft lighting, there were no luxurious compartments or attentive services to be seen—only the lifted ceiling, with cables dangling down, sparking.
Above the compartment's floorboards, behind the broken iron plates, were parts marked with rust. And beneath the floorboards that hadn't been covered up, a maze of structures lay interwoven.
It was like walking into a gigantic workshop of a shipyard where everything in sight was either a problem or a hassle.
"Tricky," Ji Jue sighed, casually hanging his bag on a protruding screw on the wall, and sat on the tattered pilot seat, looking at the scene in front of him.
No matter how many times he saw it, it always made his scalp tingle.
