40: Chapter 40 A carefully prepared recruitment fair for the enemy

Balin's voice echoed in the secret chamber, carrying a reverence and fear rooted deep in his bloodline.

His face, flushed with excitement moments ago, now turned slightly pale.

The Iron Lady, Brunhilde—this name in the Dwarf world was equivalent to the embodiment of discipline, the ultimate nightmare for any Dwarf who dared violate ancient traditions.

Levi listened quietly, the smile on his face unchanged.

He even picked up the cup of warm water on the table, took a sip, and moistened his throat.

This calm demeanor made Balin feel as if his grave warning had just been a punch thrown into soft cotton—ineffective and without the expected echo.

"Pursuit?" Levi set down the cup and asked softly, his tone laced with a hint of playfulness. "Balin, which do you think moves faster: a merchant's mind, or an enforcer's warhammer?"

The question left Balin dumbfounded.

What kind of comparison was that?

The Iron Lady's warhammer was a legendary weapon capable of shattering mountain rock—what did that have to do with the speed of thought?

Without waiting for an answer, Levi issued an order that left the Dwarf utterly stunned: "From this moment on, cease all research on weapon prototypes."

"What?" Balin almost thought his ears were playing tricks on him.

He had just been ignited with passion by this groundbreaking concept and was ready to dive in headfirst—why was it being called off so suddenly?

Had this young lord also been frightened out of his wits by the name "Iron Lady"?

"Don't rush." Seeing through his thoughts, Levi waved a hand dismissively and walked over to the massive "Assembly Line Production Flowchart." "Our direction is correct, but the entry point needs to change. I don't need you to build weapons right now. I need you, within three days, to draw out every idea in your head about 'component standardization' and 'assembly line operation.' Remember, not engineering blueprints for me, but... promotional illustrations for laypeople."

"Promotional illustrations?" Balin's beard twitched in confusion.

"Yes." Levi tapped his knuckles lightly on the parchment, producing a rhythmic *tock-tock*, as if setting the beat for his plan. "I want you to showcase the power of this concept in the simplest, most intuitive, most visually impactful way possible. For example, draw an old Dwarf craftsman, sweating profusely as he hammers for a month to forge a single exquisite sword. Then, beside it, draw a hundred apprentices on an assembly line assembling a thousand identical standard-issue longswords in a single day. It must contrast, it must be exaggerated. It must make any literate—or even illiterate—craftsman understand at a glance the revolutionary power contained within."

He turned, his gaze intense as he looked at Balin. "This illustration will be our first welcoming gift for the esteemed Iron Lady Brunhilde, who is coming from afar. We need to make her understand that she is not pursuing a thief who stole technology, but a pioneer about to usher in an entirely new era. When a flood comes, does one build a dike to channel it, or stand before it, foolishly trying to smash it back with a warhammer? What do you think a clever enforcer would choose?"

Balin stared blankly at Levi, his mouth half-open, his mind a complete void.

For the first time, he realized that this human lord's way of thinking was more bizarre and... more chilling than the most complex mechanical structure he had ever conceived.

He wasn't thinking about how to evade pursuit; he was thinking about how to turn the pursuer into his own client, or even... a partner.

This was utter madness!

Yet, for some reason, this madness made the long-dormant spirit of adventure in Balin's blood begin to boil with fervor.

After sending away Balin, who was caught between deep thought and exhilaration, Levi returned to his desk and pulled out the list "contributed" by Chairman Sallon from a stack of documents.

His finger slid over the names, finally stopping at a hastily scrawled signature.

Solon Falco. Human Alchemist.

The note that followed was simple: Obsessed with researching low-cost stabilization of "Fire Elemental Crystals," exhausted family wealth, heavily in debt, expelled from the Saint Andrew City Alchemists' Association three years ago. Current whereabouts unknown, likely in a loan shark's basement somewhere in the southern district.

A faint smile curled at the corner of Levi's lips. *Him. He's the one.*

He summoned Evelyn, who had been waiting quietly outside the door.

"Evelyn, go to the Gold Coin Chamber of Commerce and use their intelligence network to find this man." He handed her the page. "Settle all his debts, no matter the amount. Then, bring him back."

Evelyn took the list. Her amethyst eyes behind crystal lenses scanned it briefly. Without any unnecessary questions, she gave a slight bow. "As you command, my lord."

Her figure soon vanished into the night, efficient as a shadow.

To Levi, time was the most precious resource.

Dwarven rune technology was excellent, but it was too traditional, too closed-off, too reliant on a handful of geniuses—this ran counter to his "standardization" philosophy.

To build combat capability in a short time and firmly control the technology himself, he had to find another path.

And alchemy, especially research deemed heretical by mainstream academia, was precisely the breakthrough he sought.

The southern district of Saint Andrew City was a chaotic place even the city guard was reluctant to enter.

The air here perpetually carried a stench—a mixture of sewer filth, cheap alcohol, and despair.

Evelyn, clad in a plain gray cloak, walked through the filthy, muddy alleys. She stood out from her surroundings, yet her composed demeanor deterred any trouble.

Relying on the precise location provided by the Gold Coin Chamber of Commerce's local informants, she finally stopped before a basement reeking of blood and mildew.

A burly half-orc guard opened his mouth to bark at her but instantly fell silent upon meeting her indifferent amethyst eyes beneath the hood's shadow, feeling as if his very soul had frozen.

Evelyn pushed open the heavy wooden door. An even stronger wave of foul odor assaulted her.

Inside the basement, several shirtless brutes were torturing a man suspended from a ceiling beam by iron chains.

The man was emaciated, skin and bones. His tattered mage robe was stained with filth and blood, his hair a tangled bird's nest. The only things hinting at his identity were his eyes—even on the brink of unconsciousness, they still held a glint of obsession and fervor.

This was Solon.

"A debt must be paid, it's only right! You useless alchemist, either hand over the gold coins or pay with your guts!" A fat man with a brutish face and a thick gold chain around his neck was advancing toward Solon, a red-hot branding iron in hand, grinning viciously.

Evelyn frowned. She despised such inefficient violence.

Without a word, she took a heavy coin pouch from her robe and casually tossed it onto the ground.

The pouch's opening came loose. Over a hundred shiny, new gold coins spilled out, glittering temptingly in the dim candlelight, instantly capturing everyone's attention.

The fat creditor's breathing immediately grew heavy.

"How much does he owe?" Evelyn's voice was cool, devoid of any emotion.

"Fi-five... five hundred gold coins! Principal and interest included!" The fat man's eyes darted, immediately quoting an inflated figure.

Evelyn didn't even glance at him. She tossed out four identical coin pouches.

The crisp clinking of gold coins hitting the floor composed the most delightful melody in the oppressive basement.

The fat creditor's eyes nearly popped out. His thugs behind him lowered their weapons, swallowing hard, greedily drooling.

"Now, he's mine." Evelyn walked up to Solon. With a wave of her hand, an invisible blade of magic severed the chains suspending him.

Solon fell to the ground like a sack of mud, letting out a pained groan. Struggling to open his eyes, the first thing he saw was a pair of immaculate black leather boots.

"Blackstone Territory requires your knowledge." Evelyn looked down at him, her tone stating an established fact. "We will provide materials and a laboratory with no regard for cost. You need only do one thing."

She paused, clearly conveying Levi's demand. "Within three days, create a type of 'magic-conducting gunpowder' that requires minimal mana to detonate and has controllable power."

Solon's pupils contracted sharply.

"No regard for cost?" His voice was as hoarse as two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together, weak from prolonged hunger, yet carrying a hint of unbelievable ecstasy.

"No regard for cost," Evelyn confirmed.

Solon laughed—or rather, his bruised and battered face contorted into an expression uglier than crying.

He struggled to get up. The obsessive fire of fervor in his eyes was reignited.

"Take me away..." he murmured. "Now... immediately!"

Two hours later, in a hastily converted secret room at Blackstone Territory's temporary base in Saint Andrew City, Solon felt as if he had arrived in heaven.

Piles of sulfur crystals, hills of saltpeter powder, crates of sealed mercury, and rare catalysts he had only read about in ancient alchemy manuals—like Dragon's Blood pollen, Ember Demon ashes... were all laid out before him, free for his use.

Like a mouse that had fallen into a rice bin, he trembled with excitement, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism.

He caressed a fist-sized Fire Elemental Crystal, feeling the violent energy contained within, nearly moved to tears.

"A madman... my lord... what a generous madman!"

He completely forgot his injuries, forgot the passage of time, and plunged headfirst into the experimental bench, muttering various chemical formulas and incantations nonstop.

For the next two days and nights, the secret room was never quiet.

Pungent odors constantly wafted out, occasionally accompanied by faint popping sounds.

The only job for the guards Evelyn posted was to place food and water at the door at regular intervals and watch this seemingly insane human conduct various dangerous concoctions without rest.

Then, in the early hours of the third day, a loud explosion shattered the dawn's tranquility.

Half the room was left in disarray, the walls covered in black scorch marks.

Solon, his hair a singed mess from the explosion, face covered in soot, crawled out from the wreckage. Yet, he raised his hands high, letting out a maniacal laugh.

"Success! I've succeeded!"

He rushed to Levi, who had arrived upon hearing the commotion, and carefully opened his palm. Resting on it was a small, unremarkable pile of gray powder.

"My lord, behold!" His voice trembled with excitement. "This is the crystallization of theory! A brand-new explosive substance! It no longer relies on a caster's mana guidance; it can be detonated through physical impact! Although... although it's still highly unstable. Achieving stable production and controlled power would require at least a year of adjustments, but..."

Levi didn't let him finish. Using a small crystal vial, he carefully pinched a bit of the gray powder from Solon's hand and examined it closely.

He could sense an extremely unstable aura of destruction within it.

*Good. This is exactly what I need.*

"A year is too long. I seize the day," Levi's voice was calm yet carried an indisputable resolve. "But the success of the theory is sufficient."

Holding the vial of dangerous powder, he turned and walked toward another secret room.

There, Bronzebeard Balin was hunched over a massive drafting table, eyes bloodshot, dozens of discarded sketches scattered around him.

He was utterly immersed in the "industrial blueprint" Levi had described, putting the final touches on the "assembly line schematic."

Hearing the door open, Balin looked up impatiently. "Don't disturb me! I'm almost finished with that damned promotional illustration!"

Levi said nothing. He walked over to an iron target in the corner of the room, used for testing weapon strength.

He poured the small pile of gray powder onto the bullseye, then took a copper coin from his pocket and flicked it with his finger.

The coin traced an arc through the air, striking the powder precisely.

*Thump!*

A muffled yet penetrating explosion sounded, a flash of fire disappearing instantly.

On the sturdy iron target, a fist-sized dent now marred the surface, its edges showing signs of melting and tearing.

The secret room fell silent, save for Balin's heavy breathing.

He stared dumbfounded at the dent, then at the now-empty crystal vial in Levi's hand. The expression on his face shifted from shock, to confusion, and finally, into a fanatical gleam identical to Solon's—the gleam of a tech-obsessed maniac.

As a Dwarf, he understood better than anyone what this meant.

No magical fluctuations, no runic flashes—pure, savage, physical power capable of tearing through steel!

"Master Balin," Levi's voice drifted over, like a devil's whisper. "Now, I have a brand-new concept."

He walked to Balin's side, picked up a piece of charcoal, and swiftly sketched a crude outline on a blank piece of parchment.

It was a bizarre object composed of a metal tube, a wooden base, and some strange trigger mechanism.

"We abandon engraving runes. We abandon guiding mana." Levi's voice was full of allure. "Let's design a brand-new 'weapon.' A purely mechanical device that relies on this gunpowder igniting in a confined space to generate immense force, propelling a small metal projectile at a speed invisible to the naked eye. What do you think?"

Balin stared fixedly at the sketch, then looked back at the dent in the iron target. In his mind, countless mechanical concepts about pressure, locking mechanisms, transmission, and impact erupted like a volcano.

He snatched the charcoal from Levi's hand and, trembling, began rapidly modifying and adding to the sketch, muttering to himself, "No, this structure can't withstand repeated explosions... The locking mechanism must be redesigned, use a cam structure! No, a rotating bolt-action... The barrel needs rifling, yes, rifling! That way the projectile will spin, be more accurate!"

Levi smiled, watching the Dwarf descend into a state of manic fervor, then quietly left the room.

Another day passed. When Evelyn placed a stack of fresh documents before Levi, his plan finally had its last piece in place.

The first was Bronzebeard Balin's painstakingly completed final products: one, a highly impactful "Assembly Line Production Schematic," and the other, a precisely detailed, violently aesthetic "First-Generation Firearm Blueprint."

The second was a relatively stable "primary formula" for the magic-conducting gunpowder, compiled by Solon after a brief rest, along with a wildly imaginative report dozens of pages long about future research directions.

Levi stored these documents away with satisfaction.

The bait was ready. It was time to cast the net.

He looked up, gazing out the window at the bustling Saint Andrew City, but his eyes seemed to penetrate spatial barriers, looking further—toward the capital of the human kingdom, and toward the Dwarf Kingdom hidden deep within the mountains.

"Evelyn."

"My lord."

"Issue a joint announcement in the name of Blackstone Territory and the Gold Coin Chamber of Commerce." Levi's voice was calm and clear, each word carrying weight. "Extend invitations to all notable nobles, lords, craftsmen's associations, and alchemist guilds across the kingdom—no, across the entire Terrarem continent. And of course, don't forget to pay special attention to the Dwarf Elder Council in the distant Deeprock Kingdom, and that... Inspector, the Iron Lady Brunhilde."

He stood up, walked to the window, looked down at the flowing crowds below, and a slow smile spread across his lips.

"Tell them that one month from now, Blackstone Territory will host Terrarem's first-ever 'Industrial Exposition' in Saint Andrew City. At that time, we will showcase to the world a... new power capable of changing the future of warfare."