I'm doing engineering in the instance.

Chapter 41 Class Symbols - First Class

When he returned to his personal space, there was something extra on the table.

It's not placed on the tabletop, it's embedded in the tabletop—to be precise, it shines through the tabletop, as if the table's material has changed at that point, from the gray of concrete to a color he can't quite describe, somewhere between dark copper and old iron, with a slightly dim sheen, not a reflection, but the kind that shines through from the inside.

He stood in front of the table and looked at it for about three seconds.

Then he put down his backpack, walked over, and picked up the thing.

It is an emblem.

It wasn't the kind of badge he'd ever seen—not round, not a metal plate, not the kind you pin to clothes. It was a small piece about two centimeters square, about five millimeters thick, with a texture like some kind of material he couldn't name, lighter than metal but heavier than stone, and it felt slightly warm to the touch, not hot, but the kind of temperature that would slowly reach body temperature if you held it in your hand.

There are words on the surface.

The words were very small, and he leaned closer to take a look: "Class Insignia - First Rank - Pathfinder".

The font is the same as the font used for the number on the wrist; it's equally thin, equally uniform, and appears to have been carved out of the material rather than printed on.

He turned the emblem over; the back was empty, without any markings, only the texture of the material itself—fine, uniform, like a cross-section of some crystalline structure at extremely low magnification.

He held the emblem in his palm and weighed it.

Approximately ten grams.

---

"Pathfinder".

He went through the word in his mind.

In engineering, "scouting" has a specific meaning—not a metaphor, but an actual construction phase. Before entering the site, you send someone out without equipment or materials, only with their eyes and a memorandum, to understand the actual situation on site: the terrain, passageways, obstacles, potential risks, and any discrepancies with the blueprints. This phase is called "surveying," commonly known as "road exploration."

The one who scouts the way isn't the most capable, but the one who observes best.

When he was working on projects overseas, his first site survey was in Bangladesh, for a port expansion project. The blueprints showed flat backfill land, but when he arrived on site, it was half a meter deep silt. You would sink in if you walked in, and the equipment couldn't get in at all. He wrote fourteen points in his memo, and after returning, he scrapped the original access plan and redesigned the construction route.

He spent four hours on that site survey.

The project manager later said that those four hours saved them three months of construction time.

He held the word "pathfinder" in his mind for a moment.

When the author gave him this title, it's unclear if that's what he meant—he's currently in the site survey phase, building a database, recording rules, and identifying discrepancies between the drawings and the actual site. He hasn't entered the actual construction phase yet; he's still observing, still recording, and still turning "to be verified" into "verified."

Pathfinder.

He felt that this title was much more accurate than things like "hero" or "warrior".

He wrote a line in the memo: "Class Insignia - First Rank - Pathfinder. Physical description: Approximately two centimeters square, approximately five millimeters thick, approximately ten grams, dark copper-colored old iron, translucent inside, body temperature-sensitive material. Font and number are the same."

He then paused and added a line: "'Pathfinder': Engineering meaning - reconnaissance phase - construction only after a clear understanding of the site. The naming logic of the constitutive model needs verification."

---

He pulled the toolbox out from under the bed.

He bought the toolbox after his first visit to Yuan City. It was a standard aluminum alloy toolbox with twenty-four compartments, buckles, a handle, and black foam lining. Each compartment had a designated place. He spent twelve Yuan coins on it, his first purchase in Yuan City.

He opened the toolbox, took out the iron testing hammer, glanced at it, and put it back.

Then he put the class insignia into the toolbox, in the compartment next to the iron testing hammer, where the foam held it in place so it wouldn't slip.

He glanced at the contents of the toolbox: an iron testing hammer, a class insignia, a constitutive information fragment x1, a "steel maggot behavior record" prop, the third piece of the designer's symbol, and a vibration isolation tube sample (he touched it in front of the stall, the stall owner didn't say anything, he put it in his pocket, and later put it in the toolbox).

Six things.

Three instances.

He fastened the clips on the toolbox and pushed it back under the bed.

---

He sat down at the table, opened the database, and wrote on the last line of DB-001:

"Rank Promotion Record: Rank 1 · Pathfinder · #003 Triggered after settlement. Promotion conditions: To be verified (clearing three dungeons? Total score? Special behavior records?). Promotion trigger time: After #003 settlement, during the exploration of Source City, received in personal space."

He paused for a moment on the line “Promotion criteria: To be verified”.

He didn't know what the conditions for promotion were. He also didn't know the difference between Tier 1 and Tier 0—aside from the insignia, he didn't feel any changes. The "Physical Durability 41/100" on the attribute panel was still 41, unchanged from the promotion. The "Construction Acceptance Form" format on the skill panel was still the same, with no additions. The five empty slots in his backpack expansion were still empty.

He wrote a line in his memo: "Tier 1 Promotion: Confirmed. Substantial Changes: 1 Insignia. Attributes/Skills/Inventory: No changes. To be verified: Are there any hidden changes during the promotion (constituent assessment dimensions/history difficulty/player visibility)?"

Then he closed the memo.

---

There is no sound in the personal space.

There was never any sound in this place—no wind, no water, none of the background noise he was used to on construction sites. He had been here many times, and each time it was the same quiet, dry, and even, like a completely soundproof room, but not the uncomfortable deathly silence, but a kind of quiet that he had slowly grown accustomed to, a quiet that belonged to this space.

He sat in the quiet place for a while.

Then he said something.

It's not addressed to any particular person, but rather to this space, or to the very fabric of the universe, or simply spoken aloud, because he has swung this sentence around in his mind so many times that he needs to solidify it with sound:

When will the next event be held?

No one answered.

The lighting in the personal space remained unchanged, the concrete floor remained unchanged, the archive on the table remained unchanged, and the toolbox under the bed remained unchanged.

He waited for about ten seconds.

Still no answer.

He made a mental note of it: he asked, but there was no answer, yet he asked.

Then he stood up, put the database into the inside pocket of his coat, the memo into his trouser pocket, and buttoned up his coat.

There was one more thing he hadn't done in his personal space—Qian Lao said that physical durability of 41 was too low, saying that the way he walked when he came in showed it. He noted this down in his memo, but hadn't figured out how to deal with it yet.

Physical durability was not a concept he was familiar with. On the construction site, he managed "construction durability"—the compressive strength of concrete, the yield strength of steel reinforcement, and the fatigue life of welds. Those all had standards, testing methods, and clear pass/fail lines.

However, his own physical durability is 41 out of 100. He doesn't know where the passing score is, he doesn't know the testing method, and he doesn't know the improvement path.

He added a line to his memo: "Physical durability 41/100. Qian Lao's observation: Walking style is visible. To be verified: ① Passing grade; ② Improvement path; ③ Does 41 affect #004's performance in the adventure mode? Priority: Medium to high."

He closed the memo and focused his attention on the number on his wrist.

Before leaving his personal space, he went over that sentence in his mind one last time:

When will the next event be held?

There is no answer.

But he knew the answer would come.

The event won't wait for anyone, but it also won't fail to arrive.