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You're a university student who's just taken on a part-time job during summer break, yet you've somehow triggered the military's maximum alert. Seeing as you're someone who has once modified a tractor into a tank, you're commanded by Commissar Gilbert Lane to repair J-10, a fighter jet that has been retired from duty, so that it can be displayed at an aerospace exhibition.You intend to craft a replica that looks realistic, but little do you know that you'll end up awakening the Omni-Tech System that allows you to breathe life into everything that you make.Some of your inventions now include nuclear-powered engines, a technology that allows aerocrafts to perform vertical take-offs and landings on the spot, as well as advanced technology that allows aerocrafts to go invisible.On the eve of the aerospace exhibitions, even the most leading experts in the industry are stunned the moment they see your blueprints. After all, these blueprints feature technology and innovations that are considered core secrets of the nation.Witness what it feels like to transform scrap metal into treasure with your hands and build exceptional inventions that shock the entire world.

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The day I won the eight-million-dollar East Harbor renovation bid, I handed the lead role to Grace Whitman, Ethan Hale’s childhood sweetheart. Ethan thought I had finally learned to be sensible. He happily told me he was taking me to the Maldives for our wedding anniversary. Grace found out that night. She pretended the pressure from work was too much and cried uncontrollably. Ethan panicked so badly that he canceled a board meeting, stayed with her for three days, then called our anniversary trip an emergency client visit and gave Grace the second ticket. When he called me, his tone was still calm, almost entitled. “Sofia, we can talk about emotional stuff later. The company comes first right now. Grace has never handled a project this big on her own. I need to be there with her.” “You’re my wife. You should understand.” I sat alone in our empty apartment and looked at the photo Grace had just posted. In the private airport lounge, Ethan had draped his jacket over her shoulders. Their knees almost touched. Her caption read, [Some people never have to say love. They just show up first, every time.] I didn’t question him. I didn’t cry. I only replied, [Okay.] Ethan probably thought I had finally learned my place. Satisfied, he promised that when he came back, he would give me an even better anniversary. What he didn’t know was that I had already submitted my resignation to Hale Creative. And he didn’t know that the document he had signed three days ago wasn’t a project authorization form. It was our divorce agreement. By the time he realized what he had lost, I was no longer Mrs. Hale. I was Sofia Bellandi again. And Bellandi women do not beg for seats at tables they built.