"Pseudo-industrialization?" Annie furrowed her brow, her mind grappling with the term. She wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the concept of industrialization. According to the young master, Lucas, it referred to a process where the production of goods could be accelerated to a speed dozens, if not hundreds, of times faster than manual labor. It was a revolutionary idea, one that promised efficiency and progress, but Annie couldn't help but wonder if they were truly on the cusp of such a transformation.
"Old Blacksmith," Lucas said in a calm, measured tone, "if we keep refining this manual stamping machine, we can soon begin producing scale armor plates." His voice carried the weight of someone who had already envisioned the future, a future where his ideas would reshape their world.
The scale armor Lucas spoke of was intended as the next upgrade for the city's military forces. Crafted from high-quality steel, the armor plates would be intricately woven together, resulting in a protective suit far lighter than traditional armor. Not only would it reduce the burden on soldiers, but its defensive capabilities would also surpass those of standard armor by a significant margin. Lucas's ambition was to equip his army with gear that balanced mobility and strength, giving them an edge in any conflict.
"Yes, sir," The Old Blacksmith replied with a nod, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his weathered face. Deep down, he knew this manual stamping machine, as impressive as it was to him, didn't quite meet the lofty expectations of the city lord. It was a stepping stone, not the masterpiece Lucas envisioned.
Determined to prove his worth, the Old Blacksmith resolved to return home that evening and pour over the designs for a water-powered stamping machine. If it weren't for the river outside being frozen solid in the winter chill, he would have already begun constructing it. The idea of harnessing the river's flow to power machinery filled him with both excitement and trepidation—it was a challenge unlike any he had faced in his decades as a craftsman.
"Old Blacksmith," Lucas continued, his tone shifting to one of emphasis, "There's another project that takes precedence. Focus on getting that one completed first." His words were deliberate, underscoring the importance of this mysterious task.
"Oh? You mean the blueprint for Project Seven, my lord?" The Old Blacksmith asked, momentarily caught off guard. His bushy eyebrows rose as he recalled the cryptic diagrams Lucas had provided.
"Exactly," Lucas confirmed with a nod, his eyes gleaming with conviction. "That project is the true cornerstone of our industrialization efforts. It's the key to unlocking a new era." To Lucas, Project Seven wasn't just a machine—it was a divine artifact, the spark that would ignite the industrial revolution he dreamed of in this world.
"I swear, my lord, I'll see Project Seven brought to life," The Old Blacksmith declared with solemn resolve, his voice firm with determination. The weight of the task settled on his shoulders, but he welcomed it. Failure was not an option.
Lucas's lips curved into a faint smile. "If you can complete it by the end of next year, I'll grant you a grand reward." His tone was light, but the promise carried immense significance.
The military workshop housed a dedicated research institute known as the Seventh Institute, where Project Seven was being developed. The Old Blacksmith was one of its lead researchers, and his son was also deeply involved in the project. Despite having Lucas's detailed blueprints, the task was daunting. Many components were entirely foreign to the blacksmith and his team, and they often found themselves at a loss for how to proceed. The process was slow, laborious, and fraught with uncertainty, but the potential rewards drove them forward.
"Yes, my lord!" The Old Blacksmith roared, his voice echoing with fierce determination. He tilted his head back, as if shouting to the heavens. "I'll build it, even if it kills me!" To him, Lucas's "grand reward" was no mere trinket. The research department had an established reward system, and the grand prize was the ultimate aspiration of every researcher—a recognition of their ingenuity and dedication.
Elisa, standing nearby, listened to the exchange with a puzzled expression. The conversation felt like a riddle, full of cryptic references. What in the world is this Project Seven? She wondered, her curiosity piqued but unanswered.
Mina and Annie exchanged a glance, their brows furrowed in thought. They, too, were only vaguely familiar with Project Seven. They knew it was some kind of powerful device capable of generating immense force, but its specifics remained shrouded in mystery. They had never seen it, and the lack of clarity only deepened their intrigue.
"Let's go," Lucas said, nodding to his companions before turning to leave the military workshop. As he stepped outside, he reflected on what he had seen. Progress was being made, but it was slower than he had hoped. He was beginning to realize that his ambitions might have outpaced the current capabilities of his team. Patience, he reminded himself, was as critical as vision.
The manual stamping machine was merely an initial experiment in Lucas's broader plan for industrialization. However, its limitations were glaring. The failure rate was too high, and issues like precise force application remained unresolved. True industrialization, as Lucas envisioned it, was still out of reach with such rudimentary tools.
In his mind, the solution lay in more advanced technologies—like the water-powered stamping machine or, ideally, the device from Project Seven. These could serve as reliable power sources, but they came with their own challenges. Many critical components, such as bearings, couldn't be produced with the technology available in this world. For now, Lucas had to rely on purchasing these parts from Earth, a dependency he was determined to eliminate.
His ultimate goal was self-sufficiency. He couldn't afford to rely on Earth for mass-production techniques. If he did, scaling up production lines would force him to shuttle back and forth between Earth and this world, transporting parts in his limited two-cubic-meter spatial storage. The thought of becoming a glorified delivery man was intolerable. Moreover, the insatiable demand of industrialization would only grow. Any interruption in the supply chain could bring progress to a halt, and bottlenecks—particularly over-reliance on Earth—were a vulnerability Lucas refused to accept.
This was why Lucas provided only knowledge and blueprints to the research department, encouraging them to experiment and innovate. He wanted them to build a foundation of technical expertise, a reservoir of experience that would eventually enable true industrialization. Self-reliance was the key to his vision.
The manual stamping machine, while imperfect, was a microcosm of the broader industrial challenges Lucas faced. For now, he planned to use it primarily for military production—crafting scale armor plates, arrowheads, and other essential equipment. Civilian applications could wait. Sedona City was still in a state of semi-industrialization, perhaps not even that. True industrialization, where manual labor was largely replaced by machines, would mark the moment Lucas could begin expanding his influence and ambitions.
Tap, tap, tap…
The sound of footsteps echoed as Lucas and his entourage left the military workshop. Henry, walking beside him, glanced over and asked, "Young Master, where are we headed now?"
"Let's visit the Third Institute," Lucas replied, casting a quick glance at Amelia, who was staring at him with eager anticipation. He could practically feel her excitement. If he didn't check on the hot air balloon project soon, the young girl might just burst—or worse, start pestering him relentlessly.
"The Third Institute?" Henry blinked, momentarily stunned. The Sky Fortress Institute? The Third Institute was even more secretive than the military workshop, shrouded in an aura of mystery. What could they be working on there?
"Let's go," Lucas said, striding forward. Amelia scurried to keep up, her small hand reaching out to tug at the hem of his coat, a gesture that was equal parts affection and impatience.
"Yes, sir!" Henry hurried to take the lead, though his mind buzzed with questions. He knew little about the Third Institute beyond its name, which hinted at something related to the sky. Could it be… something that flies? The idea seemed fantastical, but with Lucas, anything was possible.
Mina, Annie, and Elisa followed closely behind, heading toward another section of the research department, several hundred meters from the military workshop. The research department itself was a sprawling complex, a valley segmented into dozens of distinct areas, each dedicated to a specific project or institute. Lucas had even issued orders to hollow out a small hill in the valley come spring, transforming it into a top-secret research facility. His vision was as grand as it was meticulous.
Initially, Lucas had considered relocating some institutes to the secluded Forbidden Mountains, but manpower and logistics made that impractical for now. Only when a stable, reliable hot air balloon was developed could they begin transporting materials to such a remote location. For now, the valley remained the heart of his research efforts.
The Third Institute, like many others, was housed in a modest compound. Most of its buildings were wooden, constructed during the winter when cement was unusable. In fact, over two-thirds of the research department's structures were made of wood, a testament to the scarcity of cement and the rapid expansion of the institutes. New facilities had sprung up almost overnight, each team immersed in self-directed research and experimentation.
In Sedona City, the majority of literate, loyal, and quick-witted individuals had been quietly recruited to serve as apprentices in the research department. They were taught rudimentary physics, mathematics, and other foundational sciences, forming the backbone of Lucas's innovation engine. The department was a hive of activity, with personnel frequently reassigned based on project needs. One day, an apprentice might work in the military workshop; the next, they could be sent to the Fifth Institute or the Third Institute.
Only the lead researchers, like the Old Blacksmith, remained fixed in their roles. The constant shuffling of apprentices was a necessity born of a shortage of skilled talent. When a project demanded urgent attention, resources and personnel were funneled to it. Lucas knew that only when the talent pool grew would he be able to establish permanent institutes.
For now, the research department was a crucible of potential, forging the future one painstaking step at a time.
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