Workshop No. 5 of the Red Star Steel Plant was already buzzing with the usual morning noise—the clanging of tools, the whir of machines, and the chatter of workers starting their day. Inside, Leon Ford, the youngest Level 7 fitter in the entire factory, was calmly reviewing his blueprints and adjusting the holographic display only he could see with his enhanced vision.
His peace lasted exactly five seconds.
A middle-aged man with a towel around his neck and a ceramic cup in his hand walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps. The man wore a broad smile, the kind that looked polite on the surface but hid sharp intentions beneath.
His name was Zach Howard, a Level 6 fitter and one of the oldest workers in the plant. Everyone called him "Master Howard." But behind his respectful title, Zach was known for being sly, jealous, and constantly stirring trouble. He especially disliked Leon—both for his youth and for rising to Level 7 faster than most workers could dream of.
Zach's eyes were fixed on the sleek watch around Leon's wrist.
He made a loud tut-tut-tut sound as though admiring it, though his pheromones told a different story entirely.
Leon frowned.
The moment Zach stepped within two meters, Leon's enhanced senses detected pheromone bubbles drifting from him.
Envy.
Hostility.
The scent hit Leon's mind instantly.
His body reacted just like an ant sensing danger—his skin prickled, the hairs on his arms stood up, and a small burst of instinctive alertness tightened inside him.
"Pheromone warning…?" Leon murmured to himself.
It was the first time he felt such a sharp early-warning signal from another human. The hostile pheromones inside Zach's body were triggering a chain reaction inside Leon's own pheromone system, like an alarm.
Humans called this sensation "sixth sense."
Leon now understood the biological truth behind it.
Whenever someone with malicious intent came near, the pheromone signals became detectable, even if the person hid it well. And Leon could pinpoint exactly who the source was.
Zach stopped directly in front of him.
"Tsk, tsk, Master Ford… Level 7 really is something. Just look at you—spending money like a landlord." His tone carried mockery, loud enough for every worker to hear.
Several workers' heads immediately turned.
People from this era were simple and easily influenced. Being labeled a "landlord" or "wealthy class" was like having a knife pressed to your neck—dangerous and isolating.
Leon looked at Zach with cold amusement.
A clown performing for attention.
He then looked at the other workers. Their pheromone bubbles floated gently in the air:
Surprise.
Envy.
Suspicion.
Their expressions remained neutral, but Leon could see their inner thoughts clearer than any facial expression could ever show.
Then he looked back at Zach.
Despite the smug smile plastered on his face, two pheromone bubbles pulsed brightly:
Happiness.
Gloating.
Zach was enjoying this.
He thought he had cornered Leon.
He thought he had finally found a way to embarrass him in front of the factory.
Leon calmly picked up his tea, took a slow sip, spit out the tea foam…
Then raised his hand and slapped Zach across the face.
SNAP!
The sound echoed through the workshop like a firecracker.
Everyone froze.
Zach stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock.
"You—Leon Ford—how dare y—"
SNAP!
Leon slapped him again, this time harder.
The second strike drowned out even the machine hum.
The entire workshop went silent.
Leon stared at the furious man with icy calm.
Then he spoke clearly:
"I am Leon Ford. Level 7 fitter. Model worker. Featured in newspapers multiple times."
The moment he finished speaking, the crowd of workers froze again—then understanding dawned across their faces.
Being a model worker wasn't just a title in this era.
It was a badge of untouchable political honor and a shield against accusations.
Anyone who attacked a model worker…
was the one who would be punished.
Even if some political storm arrived tomorrow, no one would dare touch someone praised by newspapers and party leaders.
And the person who slandered a model worker?
Zach Howard had just made a very serious mistake.
Immediately, the workers began to whisper loudly:
"Master Howard, this was too much."
"Yes, how could you slander Master Ford like that?"
"Old Howard, something is wrong with your thinking!"
"Honestly, Master Ford went easy on you. If it were me, I'd report you to the inspection department. They would investigate your motives very carefully."
Zach's face drained of color.
His reputation was already poor. Now, surrounded on all sides by criticism and knowing he had swung at the wrong opponent, he deflated like a punctured balloon.
"M-Master Ford… I spoke nonsense… please don't mind me," Zach stammered, bowing his head pitifully.
Leon didn't even look at him.
"Go. I'm working," he said casually.
The workers backed away instantly, returning to their tasks. Zach covered his face and slunk out of Workshop No. 5, defeated and humiliated.
Two slaps had ended the entire farce.
Leon returned to work just as calmly as before, picking up his tools. With the assistance of his holographic glasses, his skills felt sharper than ever. Every measurement, every cut, every angle flowed from his hands with perfect precision.
In just thirty minutes, Leon completed the entire task assigned to him for the day.
He was just considering whether to use leftover metal scraps to create a new component when the workshop door burst open.
Lewis Grant, a colleague from Workshop No. 7, hurried inside. Behind him stood a woman in her early twenties, wearing a pale floral dress and glasses.
Leon raised an eyebrow.
Immediately, the pheromone bubbles around them came into view.
Lewis Grant → Anxious
Young woman → Rational
Rational pheromones.
Leon had never sensed this type before. They felt cold, analytical, almost emotionless—completely different from the emotional bubbles he usually detected.
The woman's presence felt like a perfectly sharpened blade.
Lewis greeted him quickly:
"Master Ford! Busy morning, I see!"
Leon gave a polite nod. "Master Grant. Just in time—I've finished making the part your workshop ordered." He gestured toward the metal component on the table. "Please check if it meets your accuracy."
Lewis smiled outwardly, but the pheromone bubble around him pulsed harder.
Anxious. Very anxious.
Leon didn't call it out. He simply waited.
Lewis coughed awkwardly.
"Ahem—Master Ford, let's put the parts aside for now. I came here to introduce someone. This is Professor Rowan Wells, from the Department of Physics at Tsinghua University. She's a brilliant academic—top of her field."
He turned toward her and asked proudly:
"Professor Wells, where did you graduate from again?"
The chapter cut off there—but Leon could already feel it.
Something serious was coming.
And Professor Rowan Wells was not here by accident.