16: Chapter 16: Technology as Equity – Even Elves Must Obey KPIs

The news brought by the guard was like a heavy hammer, smashing down hard on the strange atmosphere that had just solidified in the room.

Hammer Inquisition.

Levi's eye twitched imperceptibly.

The fragmented intelligence provided by Evelyn and Blackfinger instantly pieced together a complete and extremely dangerous image in his mind: a group of fanatical, powerful, and unreasonable mad dogs.

"Understood, tell him to wait." Levi's voice was frighteningly calm. He waved for the guard to retreat, as if he had only heard some trivial matter like "the pig from the next village ran away."

He turned his gaze back to the elf on the bed, whose eyes were wide with astonishment.

"It seems your 'debt' has increased again." There was no ripple in Levi's tone. He picked up the parchment and added another line below, "Crisis public relations handling fee, temporarily twenty silver coins. Now, a total of thirty-one."

Rage ignited in the elf Hill's emerald green eyes. She felt her dignity being trampled by this human in the crudest way.

"You... you're extorting me!"

"No, this is risk compensation." Levi placed the parchment on her bedside. "You can choose not to pay, and I can choose to throw you out the window right now and hand you over to those gentlemen outside carrying hammer banners. I imagine they'd be very happy to waive your debt, and perhaps tie you to a stake for good measure."

He turned to walk out. As he reached the door, he stopped and said without looking back, "Get some good rest, Miss Hill. After all, starting tomorrow, you'll begin your long career of 'debt repayment.' I hope your value can match the trouble you've caused."

The wooden door closed softly, shutting out Hill's gaze, which was practically spitting fire.

Levi took a deep breath. The cold, damp air in the castle corridor helped to cool his agitated mind a little.

He strode towards the castle gate, rapidly calculating in his mind.

To resist head-on would be suicide.

What could a dilapidated territory, one that couldn't even properly maintain its city walls, use to challenge the empire's violent institutions?

But to hand her over directly would not only mean his initial 'investment' was wasted, but it would also expose his weakness, allowing the other party to take advantage.

Delay, he must delay.

Fighting bureaucracy with bureaucracy—this was the essence he had learned from countless inter-departmental meetings in his previous life.

The castle drawbridge was already down. Levi walked out alone, without a single guard behind him, dressed only in a plain linen noble's everyday attire.

He deliberately projected an image of a defenseless, even somewhat shabby, lord.

Outside the drawbridge, thirty knights in heavy plate armor were arrayed in a fan shape, their warhorses, also clad in heavy armor, snorting impatiently.

Every plate on their armor was polished to a shine, reflecting the cold light beneath the lead-grey sky.

In the center, a battle banner embroidered with a golden Iron Hammer and flames flapped in the cold wind, exuding an aura of solemnity and majesty.

A young knight without a helmet rode forward a few steps. He had neatly combed golden short hair and an arrogance rooted in his bloodline and faith.

He scrutinized Levi from above, his gaze like he was looking at a roadside stone.

"Are you the lord of this place, Levi Byron?" He reined in his horse, his voice clear and haughty.

Levi knew he was the messenger.

According to the logic of the situation, he shouldn't know his name at this moment.

"Indeed, it is I. May I ask what brings you esteemed knights to my barren Blackstone Territory?" Levi bowed slightly, adopting a very low posture and a humble, almost fawning tone.

This familiar subservient posture brought a long-lost sense of intimacy to the depths of his soul.

The young knight was clearly very pleased with Levi's attitude. His arrogance grew, and he pulled out a scroll of parchment from his embrace, unfurling it as if proclaiming a sacred decree: "By order of the Hammer Inquisition, we are pursuing a heretical elf who blasphemes the gods and consorts with dark creatures. According to the guidance of the divine compass, her aura last disappeared near your territory. Levi Byron, in the name of Colin, a probationary knight of the Inquisition, I command you to immediately surrender the heretic and assist us in our search."

Colin. Levi noted the name in his mind.

"An elf?" Levi's face showed just the right amount of shock and alarm. He widened his eyes as if he had heard something out of a fairy tale. "Sir, you must be mistaken! My Blackstone Territory is so poor that even the moles have almost fled. Besides a nest of dwarf miners who arrived a few days ago, I haven't seen a living elf in hundreds of years!"

As he spoke, he put on a tearful expression, an act that would make even the drama-queen colleagues from his previous company feel ashamed.

"Sir, as you can see, my territory is just this one dilapidated castle, plus a mine to the south, with less than two hundred people in total. If there really was a pointy-eared one hidden here, there's no way I wouldn't know!"

Colin frowned. The guidance of the divine compass could not be wrong.

He snorted coldly: "Enough nonsense! My patience is limited. I'll give you one day to search every corner, every burrow in your territory! If by this time tomorrow you cannot hand over that heretic, we will personally 'cleanse' your territory for you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Levi nodded like a pecking chicken, his face plastered with a fawning smile. "Sir, rest assured, I will cooperate fully! I guarantee I'll turn the territory upside down! It's just... my manpower is truly limited, and one day might be..."

"That's your problem." Colin impatiently cut him off and turned his horse around. "We'll set up camp on the border. Remember, I want to see results before sunset tomorrow."

With that, he led the troop of knights, raising a cloud of dust as they had arrived, retreating beyond the vague territorial boundary and setting up camp. The Iron Hammer battle banner, like a nail, was firmly fixed in Levi's sight.

Watching them depart, the smile on Levi's face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, deep solemnity.

He had succeeded, using a humble posture and delaying tactics to buy himself a precious day.

Now, what he needed to do in this short time was to evaluate the elf's 'value' and whether it was worth the risk of falling out with the Inquisition.

He turned and returned to the castle, heading straight for the dwarf forging workshop.

When he appeared at the workshop entrance with Hill, it immediately caused a stir.

Hill was still very weak, her face pale, but the inherent arrogance of an elf made her hold her head high even in ill-fitting coarse clothes, like a white swan that had strayed into a flock of chickens.

The dwarves in the workshop immediately stopped their work, and hostile glances focused on her.

Especially Blackfinger, who gripped his forging hammer so hard it creaked, letting out a threatening growl from his throat.

"What are you all looking at? Get back to work!" Levi's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority. "If you don't want this month's whiskey dividends to disappear, then mind your eyes and your hammers!"

The magic of whiskey instantly overshadowed racial hatred.

The dwarves reluctantly turned their heads, and the clang of hammers resumed.

Levi led Hill to the final product area of the assembly line.

A small pile of newly forged standard battle axes lay there, uniform in design but vastly different in detail.

Some axe blades were sharp, while others were riddled with tiny pores; some handles were perfectly fitted, while others were crooked.

Hill merely glanced at them, and a look of undisguised disdain appeared in her emerald green eyes.

"Crude scrap metal," she murmured in Elvish, assuming Levi wouldn't understand.

"You're right, they are indeed scrap metal." Levi, however, responded in fluent Human Common Tongue, causing Hill to pause slightly. "But, in one hour, three apprentices can make five such 'scrap metals.' How many works of art can you elves make in one hour?"

Hill's lips moved, but she couldn't refute him.

Elves pursued ultimate perfection; it was common for a longbow to take months or even years from material selection to enchantment.

"I don't need works of art; I need weapons that can arm an army at the fastest speed and lowest cost." Levi's voice was calm. "Now, I need to assess your value. Tell me, without changing the existing process, without increasing manpower or working hours, what method do you have to improve the quality of these 'scrap metals'?"

This was the test he gave her.

If her answer was just empty talk like "meticulous craftsmanship" or "feeling with your heart," then her value in his eyes would be greatly diminished.

Hill fell silent.

She walked to a pile of unprocessed iron ore, extending a slender, fair finger to gently brush the rough surface of a piece of ore.

She closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling slightly, and a faint, strange fluctuation emanated from her body.

A moment later, she opened her eyes and pointed to a few pieces in the pile of ore, saying, "These few won't do. They have too many sulfur and phosphorus impurities. Weapons forged from them will be both brittle and soft."

Blackfinger, standing by, scoffed: "Nonsense! The quality of ore relies entirely on the experience and feel passed down through generations of us dwarves! How could you pointy-ears know just by looking at it!"

Hill ignored his sarcasm. She placed her palm over a piece of ore she deemed acceptable and began to softly chant ancient and obscure syllables.

A faint green glow lit up from her palm, enveloping the ore.

The dwarves in the workshop could clearly feel that certain elements in the air seemed to become active.

About a minute later, the green light dissipated.

The surface of the ore looked unchanged, but Hill's face was a shade paler, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

Clearly, this was quite taxing for her in her weakened state.

"This is our elven 'Resonance Stripping,' a low-level nature spell," she explained, panting. "I can perceive the internal structure of metal ore and resonate with it through mental power, stripping some impurities from the crystal lattice. Now, the purity of this ore has increased by at least ten percent compared to before."

The entire workshop instantly fell silent. All the dwarves stared at her as if she were a monster.

Purifying ore with magic? This was completely beyond their comprehension.

"Heretical!" Blackfinger was the first to react. He spat and roared, "This is blasphemy against the God of Forging! It's an insult to our dwarven craftsmanship! True weapons are forged with sweat and fire, not by these opportunistic magic tricks!"

"Is that so?" A familiar curve appeared at the corner of Levi's mouth. "Then let's make another bet."

He turned to Blackfinger, pointing to two young dwarves of comparable skill behind him: "Have them both open their furnaces simultaneously, using the same mold, to forge the same short sword. One will use the unprocessed ordinary ore over there. The other will use this piece that Miss Hill just 'purified.'"

The outcome was self-evident.

When the two freshly forged short swords were plunged into cold water with a hiss, the winner was already decided.

The short sword forged from purified ore shimmered with an even, cold light, its edge glowing with a faint blue hue under the firelight.

The other, however, had several imperceptible dull spots on its blade.

Blackfinger personally inspected them. He flicked the blades with his finger; the former's sound was clear and resonant, while the latter's was somewhat muffled.

He then struck the edges of the two swords against each other. With a crisp 'clang,' a rice-grain-sized chip appeared on the edge of the short sword made from ordinary ore.

Blackfinger's face turned the color of a pig's liver.

Actions spoke louder than words.

His gaze at Hill gradually changed from hostility and disdain to a complex emotion mixed with awe, jealousy, and unwillingness.

"I announce!" Levi's voice rang out at the opportune moment, echoing in every dwarf's ear. "Effective immediately, the 'Quality Control Department' is established! Miss Hill is appointed as the first Technical Director of the Quality Control Department! All ore entering the assembly line must first undergo 'purification' treatment by Director Hill! Simultaneously, a new 'purification' piece-rate reward will be established: for every standard ore purified, Director Hill will receive one copper coin as remuneration, to offset her... Um, personal training expenses."

The dwarves exchanged glances. Although they still felt awkward, no one voiced any further objections.

That clearly superior short sword had completely shattered their stubbornness.

The new production process was immediately implemented.

Although Hill was weak, she only needed to sit by the ore pile, sensing and casting with her mental power, which didn't require much physical exertion.

When the first batch of finished weapons forged from purified ore came out, all the dwarves were stunned by the visibly improved quality.

The weapon qualification rate almost reached one hundred percent, and the overall quality had risen by a notch.

This meant that their piece-rate rewards would be significantly higher than before.

Suddenly, the dwarves' gazes towards Hill completely changed.

This pointy-eared 'bringer of disaster' seemed to have transformed into a god of wealth who could turn stone into gold.

Some dwarves even proactively brought her water and food, their respectful attitude making Hill somewhat flustered.

Watching the bustling scene in the workshop, Levi's heart settled slightly.

With a 'debt' of thirty-one silver coins, at an efficiency of one copper coin per ore, Hill would need to purify over three thousand pieces a day to repay it.

This was a seemingly impossible goal, yet it offered her a glimmer of hope.

As long as hope remained, she would work desperately to repay her debt and regain her freedom as soon as possible.

A perfect closed loop.

However, just as Blackstone Territory's productivity was about to experience a leap, on the border, Colin's patience was rapidly being depleted.

He sat by the campfire in the camp, polishing his beloved knight's longsword.

The alchemy compass lay beside him, its needle pointing steadfastly towards the south of Blackstone Territory—in the direction of the dwarf mines.

He hadn't believed Levi's nonsense from the start.

The humble lord's excessive fawning and panic, in his eyes, were signs of a guilty conscience.

He had given a one-day deadline merely to adhere to the Inquisition's procedural justice.

But now, it seemed that the ignorant country noble, who didn't know his place, genuinely intended to exhaust his patience.

Colin looked up, glancing at the sun already setting in the west, the clouds on the horizon stained with a bloody hue.

He didn't want to wait any longer.

"All mount up!" He abruptly stood, sheathing his longsword, his cold voice echoing throughout the camp. "That heretic is hidden in the southern mine. Follow me, we will raze it to the ground and purify all evil!"

Accompanied by the clang of armor plates and the neighing of warhorses, thirty heavy-armored knights mounted their steeds, following Colin like a red-hot Iron Hammer, unhesitatingly crossing the invisible boundary line and charging directly towards the mine.