It seemed to be a workshop of a factory, where copious amounts of seaweed were swiftly ground into a mush by a machine that was a hybrid of flesh and mechanics, and then immediately transported on a conveyor belt to the next room.
"What do they need so much seaweed for? Have I inadvertently stumbled into the Heike Clan's food factory?" A flicker of confusion passed through Charles's mind.
Feeling the abdominal pain subsiding very slowly, Charles, who was hanging upside down, thought for a moment and then walked towards the room ahead.
In another room, there were also various strange and complex machines. The machines, spewing steam, mixed the minced meat with some sort of white paste.
Charles continued down the workshop, and after several stages of processing, pieces of cardboard the size of tables were being produced – green in color.
When he saw regular bony templates stamping out patterns of waves and ships, Charles's pupils instantly narrowed to pinpoints.
