Liu Zhenshan's hands, which were behind his back, quietly clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

The only sound in the workshop was the gantry milling machine. The air seemed to have solidified into a transparent, invisible grease, thick and suffocating, along with the smell of oil from the machinery.

Time seemed to stretch out infinitely at this moment, and every second felt like an eternity.

Xiao Liu had been following Wang Dachui for a long time. His hands were very steady, and he operated strictly according to the parameters given by Mingzhao.

Sweat trickled down his taut forehead, dripping onto his oil-stained work clothes and spreading into dark spots.

His lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes were very focused.

Mingzhao stood quietly to the side, his gaze sweeping over every detail of the lathe's operation, paying attention to the tiny streams of metal that flew out as the material was cut, and focusing his mind on monitoring the trajectory of every microscopic particle in real time.

Finally, after a suffocatingly long wait, the machine’s incessant roar came to an abrupt end.

The last processing cycle has ended.

The cutter head is lifted, and the coolant spray system stops working.

A turbine blade, gleaming with a cold metallic luster and featuring a complex and precise design, lay quietly on the fixture of the workbench.

Its body is sleek and smooth, and the subtle curve of its leaf tips reflects a chilling light under the dim light of the workshop's overhead lamp.

Dead silence.

Absolute silence enveloped the entire workshop. Everyone's eyes were fixed on that blade, and they even forgot to breathe.

Did it work?

Questions arose in everyone's minds.