14: Chapter 14 For the tribe, and for that limited edition whiskey

Blackfinger and the group of dwarf warriors behind him wore expressions that were a living history of cognitive collapse.

They looked at Levi, then at the parchment in his hand with strange symbols and square grids, and finally, their gazes unanimously fell on the half-empty barrel of strong ale.

"Sha...res?" Blackfinger scratched his messy beard with a thick finger, the word squeezed out of his throat like he was chewing a rock. "You mean, I don't have to do anything, and you'll keep sending me this kind of alcohol?"

This level of comprehension was a Project Manager's nightmare and a Salesman's paradise.

Levi grumbled inwardly but smiled even more genuinely.

"No, Chief Blackfinger, let me correct you. This isn't 'me sending you alcohol,' but rather 'the company' distributing dividends to its shareholders. As long as the mine continuously creates value, you, as the second-largest shareholder, will continuously receive dividends. This alcohol is just the most basic kind." Levi's tone carried a hint of allure. "Imagine mountains of roasted meat, the freshest vegetables, and even... 'Water of Life' ten times stronger than this alcohol. All of this will be the deserved benefits of the company's shareholders."

Water of Life?

Blackfinger's breathing noticeably grew heavier.

Several older Dwarf Elders behind him also emerged from the depths of the cave, their cloudy eyes gleaming with a complex light of suspicion intertwined with greed.

An elder with a grizzled beard mumbled a few words in Dwarven, his voice hoarse and full of caution.

Blackfinger immediately roared back in the same language, and a fierce argument erupted between the two.

Although he couldn't understand the specific content, from their gestures continually pointing at Levi, the carriage, and the alcohol barrel, Levi could roughly guess the focus of the dispute.

It was nothing more than the conflict between the traditional 'those not of our kind are sure to have different intentions' and the immense benefits right before their eyes.

Levi didn't interrupt, simply standing still, maintaining his harmless smile.

He knew that when internal divisions arose, any external urging could be counterproductive.

What he needed was for the seed of 'profit' to take root and sprout in their own hearts.

The argument lasted a full quarter of an hour, finally ending with a deafening roar from Blackfinger, who smashed a nearby rock to smithereens with his massive warhammer.

The old dwarves fell silent. Although their faces were still etched with unwillingness, the authority of the tribal chief, and their undisguised craving for the barrel of strong alcohol, ultimately made them choose to compromise.

Blackfinger panted, like a belligerent bull. He walked up to Levi, practically thrusting his face close to Levi's nose, a strong scent of alcohol mixed with sulfur assaulting him.

"Kid, I don't care about your fancy terms! I just have one question: if I sign this damn thing, will there really be that much alcohol every year?"

"Not every year, but every month, even every week. The higher the output, the more dividends." Levi met his fiery eyes without flinching, answering decisively.

"Good!" Blackfinger squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth.

He snatched the parchment, not even glancing at the dense clauses, and directly bit his thumb, pressing his huge, blood- and charcoal-stained black fingerprint heavily onto the signature field for 'Chief Technology Officer'.

The moment the contract was established, an invisible shackle seemed to bind this unruly Grey Dwarf tribe to the dilapidated war chariot of Blackstone Territory.

Levi's smile instantly grew warm. He immediately announced that to celebrate the establishment of the "Blackstone Mining Company," a grand "Company Inauguration Party" would be held tonight at the entrance of the mine.

All the remaining strong alcohol on the carriage would be supplied in unlimited quantities to all "company employees" as celebratory drinks.

"Furthermore," Levi cleared his throat and raised his voice, ensuring every dwarf could hear, "I am honored to announce the appointment of our great Forging Master, the Chief of the Grey Dwarf Tribe—Sir Blackfinger, as the Director of Production for Blackstone Mining!"

"Director?" Blackfinger was once again bewildered by the new term.

"A glorious position, meaning you will be fully responsible for the production, forging, and quality control of the entire mining area." Levi skillfully explained, greatly satisfying the dwarf chief's desire for control and vanity.

The dwarves' cheers almost overturned the entire valley.

For them, a complex "equity agreement" was far less important than the tangible fine alcohol before them.

Under the rich aroma of alcohol and Levi's generous promises, their last doubts vanished.

Halfway through the party, Levi pulled Rog aside.

The poor Merchant was holding a mug of ale, the lingering look of shock not yet fully faded from his face, replaced by a dreamy sense of unreality.

"Rog, from today onwards, you are Blackstone Territory's Chief Procurement Officer." Levi patted his shoulder.

"Procurement Officer?" Rog's hand trembled, almost spilling his drink.

"That's right. Your first task is to announce the new production incentive system to all dwarves." Levi handed him a freshly written parchment. "All dwarves who complete their basic daily workload will receive a standard food and ale ration. But beyond that, for every additional cart of qualified iron ore extracted, the entire team responsible for that area will receive an extra barrel of strong alcohol of this quality as a reward."

Rog's eyes widened.

Levi paused, then added: "As for the craftsmen responsible for forging, for every standard weapon independently forged, in addition to the team reward, the craftsman himself will receive an extra small bottle of this."

With that, Levi took out an exquisite flat crystal bottle from his pocket, containing an amber-colored liquid.

He pulled out the cork, and an aroma far richer and more complex than ale, with notes of oak and malt, instantly diffused. Even Blackfinger, who was drinking heavily nearby, involuntarily twitched his nose and cast a curious glance.

"This is Blackstone Territory's special... Whiskey." Levi shook the bottle, watching Rog's almost drooling expression, and smiled contentedly. "Go, tell our diligent employees this good news."

“This is Blackstone Territory’s special… Whiskey.” Levi shook the bottle, watching Rog’s almost drooling expression, and smiled contentedly. “Go, tell our diligent employees this good news.”

The announcement of the new system was like a giant stone thrown into an already boisterous lake.

Even before the party ended, some strong young dwarves couldn't hold back. They gathered in groups of three or five, spurred by both alcohol and rewards, grabbed their mining picks, and rushed into the depths of the mine.

For them, tribal traditions or the glory of forging were no match for a mouthful of fine alcohol that could set their souls ablaze.

Throughout the night, the Crying Ridge no longer heard cries, but instead, the incessant 'clanging' from the mine, along with the rough shouts of young dwarves and their laughter after drinking heartily.

The next morning, when Levi entered the mining area accompanied by Rog, he was stunned by the sight before him.

Outside the mine, mountains of iron ore had formed a small hill, at least the total quantity of the past three days.

Several groups of young dwarves were gathered around barrels of strong alcohol, their prizes, proudly showing off to their companions.

On the other side, several old dwarf blacksmiths, who adhered to tradition and slow, meticulous work, quietly gnawed on their basic ration of black bread and drank the most ordinary ale.

They watched the young ones drinking heartily,

And for the first time, their beliefs showed cracks under the impact of reality.

Levi was very pleased with this; this internal cognitive rift was the best catalyst for his reforms.

He walked straight to the Forging Workshop, which was the core of the entire mining area.

Inside the workshop, waves of heat rolled. Blackfinger was shirtless, revealing rock-hard, bulging muscles, sweat streaming down his bronze skin.

He was concentrating on using a small hammer to tap intricate and beautiful patterns onto the blade of a battle-axe.

His focused expression was as if he were carving a rare work of art.

This battle-axe was undoubtedly perfect; whether in balance, edge, or ornamentation, it was a masterpiece.

But Levi only glanced at the hourglass used for timing nearby, and his brows furrowed.

Blackfinger had spent an entire morning on this work of art.

"Director Blackfinger, your craftsmanship is astonishing." Levi first gave his full affirmation.

Blackfinger looked up, wiped the sweat from his face, and snorted proudly: "This is an offering to the God of Forging; every hammer blow must contain the soul of a dwarf!"

"I understand and respect your beliefs." Levi nodded, then changed the subject. "But as the company's production director, we need to consider efficiency more. The birth of a work of art is great, but one hundred excellent weapons sufficient to arm soldiers are the foundation of our current survival."

He pointed to a few young dwarves nearby, whose skills were mediocre and who could only assist, and proposed a revolutionary plan: "Why not try 'Assembly Line Production'? Let one person specialize in smelting ore, pouring molten iron into uniform axe blanks. Another person only focuses on forging them into shape with a heavy hammer. The next person specializes in quenching. Finally, a dedicated person is responsible for sharpening the edge and installing the handle."

Levi's words were like a basin of cold water splashed into a scorching forge.

Blackfinger spun around abruptly, his bell-like eyes blazing with fury: "What nonsense are you spouting! This is blasphemy against the God of Forging! Every weapon, from iron ore to finished product, should be completed by one craftsman pouring their heart and soul into it! Your method will only produce a pile of soulless scrap iron!"

"Efficient scrap iron can also kill enemies," Levi calmly retorted. "And they can also be exchanged for Whiskey."

"Impossible!" Blackfinger roared, spittle flying onto Levi's face. "Soulless weapons wouldn't even be used by the lowest Goblins!"

"Then how about we make a bet?" Levi wiped the spittle from his face, still maintaining his composure. "You continue to complete your perfect work of art. I will have these three 'idiots' in your eyes produce according to my assembly line method. We'll use this hourglass as the limit and see whose 'value' is higher."

"A bet it is!" Blackfinger was thoroughly enraged. He slammed his battle-axe into the anvil. "If I win, you are not allowed to criticize my forging ever again! If I lose..."

"If you lose, you will promote the Assembly Line Production method throughout the tribe. All standard weapons produced by the assembly line will also enjoy piece-rate rewards." Levi finished the latter half of his sentence for him.

"It's a deal!"

The wager immediately attracted the attention of all the dwarves.

Blackfinger took a deep breath and once again immersed himself in his meticulous work, each strike precise and rhythmic.

On the other side, under Levi's personal guidance, the three young dwarves seemed a bit flustered.

One was responsible for pulling the bellows to melt iron, another awkwardly wielded a large hammer, and the third nervously controlled the quenching water temperature.

The atmosphere in the workshop became tense.

The old dwarves stood behind Blackfinger, cheering him on, their faces solemn in defense of tradition.

Meanwhile, the young dwarves eager for rewards curiously gathered around the assembly line, watching their three companions stumble through this unheard-of production method.

Time passed minute by minute.

Just as the fine sand in the hourglass was about to run out, Blackfinger finally let out a loud shout, raising his perfect battle-axe high.

The patterns on the axe blade shimmered in the firelight, and the edge gleamed with a chilling sharpness. Anyone would have to admit it was a rare masterpiece.

However, just as he was receiving the cheers of his tribesmen, on the other side, with a 'clang,' the fifth battle-axe, rough in appearance but absolutely qualified as a standard weapon, was placed among a pile of finished products.

Three dwarves with mediocre skills had completed five weapons in the same amount of time.

The entire workshop instantly fell silent.

All the dwarves were stunned. They looked at the unique work of art in Blackfinger's hand, then at the five axes, ugly but sturdy and usable 'products,' their expressions extremely complex.

Blackfinger's pride froze. He stared intently at the pile of iron axes, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

The outcome of this bet had an unprecedented, violent impact on his worldview.

Just as Levi was about to step forward, announce that assembly line produced weapons would also be included in piece-rate rewards, and push this production revolution to its climax—

"My lord! Urgent military intelligence!"

A scout from the guard 隊, covered in mud and blood, rushed into the Forging Workshop in a panic. He didn't even have time to catch his breath before kneeling on one knee, reporting urgently in a hoarse voice:

"A... a silver-haired elf, while escaping pursuit, trespassed into our territory! Behind her was a team of well-equipped, unidentified heavy armored knights! The elf was severely wounded and just collapsed on the edge of the Mist Forest, south of our territory!"

Levi's heart sank sharply.

Elf? Heavy armored knights?

His mind raced.

A noble elf, in this borderland of a human kingdom, was itself a huge variable.

Elves were known for their supreme talents in enchantment, alchemy, and bow and arrow manufacturing. If she could be recruited, it would be a huge leap for Blackstone Territory's technological development.

But... her pursuers, that team of unidentified heavy armored knights, were like a Sword of Damocles hanging over his head.

The appearance of this elf might be a once-in-a-lifetime technical talent, but it could also very likely drag the fragile, just-starting Blackstone Territory into a political vortex that he currently couldn't handle.

To save, or not to save?

Levi's gaze swept over the stunned dwarves, then glanced at the production revolution, temporarily halted by the urgent military intelligence. For a moment, he felt as if he stood at a crossroads of destiny.