Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The old blacksmith Poltan let out a long sigh, "He believed that we couldn't surpass the steel of Steel Castle, and there's one simple reason for that—their iron is indeed better and cheaper. Monopoly can't make up for the gap in quality and price. Relying on monopoly to delay failure will only lead to a more miserable defeat in the end, it's better to admit defeat honestly."

"Actually, I'm not angry that the ironworking business has been crushed, at worst I could just go back to forging iron." The old blacksmith said wistfully, "What I really can't accept is the betrayal of a friend. But do you know what's even more painful than the betrayal of a friend? Old Gangchalov's betrayal was right.

The more I think about it, the more I agree with Old Gangchalov. Steel Castle is winning because their iron is truly superior. If we wanted to push out Steel Castle's steel with the blacksmiths' guild, we'd have to use large donations to bribe the New Reclamation Legion. In the end, the blacksmiths will earn less money, and the ironware will be sold for more. The money will flow into the pockets of the New Reclamation Legion, so it might as well give up right away."

Winters was somewhat surprised, he listened quietly, as the old blacksmith's words were clearly not finished.

"But over these ten years, I've come up with another idea. Old Gangchalov is right, yet he's also not! What if our iron could also be cheap and good? What if one day we could produce steel like Steel Castle? If we surrender, then there's no hope at all."

Old blacksmith Poltan summed up heavily, "This is my thought for the past ten years. Monopoly is not unacceptable, as long as it aims to defeat Steel Castle fair and square! We need to find more efficient mining methods, better furnaces, cheaper fuel... Whatever Steel Castle does, we must learn from them! And eventually, defeat Steel Castle!"

The old blacksmith Poltan got more and more excited as he spoke, and by the end, he was somewhat out of breath.

Winters thought for a moment, then asked, "Is it with this thought in mind that you went to research how to smelt iron using coal?"

"Yes, but I failed." The old blacksmith sagged into the lounge chair, offering a wan smile: "To arm-wrestle with Steel Castle, the blacksmiths' guild isn't up to par. The monopoly over Forge has already satisfied the blacksmiths. The existence of the blacksmiths' guild isn't for producing more, but for less. That's their fundamental difference with Steel Castle.

The blacksmiths' guild has neither the desire nor the ability to improve, while Steel Castle gets stronger each day. Sooner or later, the blacksmiths' guild of Iron Peak County will be completely crushed by Steel Castle. That's why I gave up hope a long time ago."

He stared intently at Winters, his gaze burning, "Now, what I don't know is—compared to the blacksmiths' guild, do you possess a stronger will and ability to arm-wrestle with Steel Castle?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Winters retorted with a laugh.

"You actually don't," said the old blacksmith Poltan decisively, "You don't even realize you don't."

"What do you mean?" Winters asked, puzzled.

The old blacksmith asked coldly, "Who mines for you?"

"For now, it's hired farmers, later it should be captives... that is, slaves."

"Does the ore cost money?"

"No."

"What about the coal?"

"That neither."

"Iron from the outside can't get in," the old blacksmith asked squinting, "Is there anyone else in Iron Peak County who can smelt iron?"

"No..."

"The raw materials don't cost money, the labor you use are slaves, and you've monopolized the iron materials of Iron Peak County," said the old blacksmith Poltan coldly. "I really don't see why you would want to change the status quo!"

"It's simple," Winters laughed heartily, "Because I don't plan to stay in Iron Peak County for a lifetime. I'm going to war! I want to arm the troops! I want to topple the New Reclamation Legion! So, I need a lot of iron, the more the better!"

…

When Winters returned to his residence, the sky was already dimly lit.

He had barely rested in the past day and night, spending the morning at the Forge, the afternoon in Forging Village and the military station village, and he had just fallen asleep for a short while at night before being woken up, then hurried non-stop back to Revodan to visit Mr. Poltan.

Right now, all he wanted was to get some good sleep.

An unexpected person was waiting for him outside his door—Little Lion.

"Weren't you hunting with Juan?" Winters's head was groggy, "You've returned early."

Little Lion flashed a toothy smile, "There was something, so I came back first."

"What's up?" Winters yawned, "Whatever it is, let's talk about it tomorrow—no, it's already today."

Little Lion's smile grew more mischievous, "I don't mind. But if I tell you tomorrow, I'm afraid you might regret it—someone is waiting for you."

Touching a hot iron, Winters instantly became alert, he was tensely on the verge of suffocation, "It can't be that person... has come, right?"

"Which person?" Little Lion asked with a smile, deliberately inquiring back.

"You…"

"Cut the nonsense," Little Lion couldn't help but laugh, entering the room, "Come on, they are waiting for you."

Winters's chest tightened, his head throbbed, and a strong urge to flee surged through him.

After standing for a good while, he clenched his teeth, steeled his nerves, and entered his residence with trepidation.

A man was sitting in the reception room waiting for him.

Winters felt like he had received a reprieve, his body went limp as if all strength had been drained from him.

But the next moment, his spirit and body tensed up again.

The man sitting in the reception room had changed—become gaunt, haggard, and missing a left arm, but Winters would never mistake that face.

It was Colonel Bod.

Before anyone else could speak, Winters had already dashed to Colonel Bod's side.

He grabbed at the Colonel's empty sleeve, turned his head sharply to look at Little Lion.

"It's okay, Winters," Colonel Bod said with a smile, his voice a bit hoarse, but still as easygoing as ever, "If they hadn't helped me amputate my arm, I probably wouldn't be able to sit here."

"What are you staring at me for?" Little Lion stared back at Winters, "What Mr. Bod says is right."

Winters was overwhelmed with emotion, he embraced Colonel Bod, and despite his efforts to hold back, tears still streamed down his face.

Colonel Bod patted Winters on the back with his remaining right hand, "Hey, no need to cry, it's all right..."

As Colonel Bod said this, tears also trailed down his cheeks.

Colonel Bod was a "gift" from the White Lion.

The White Lion had sent another gift, a message.

"The Fire Stoker is coming," Little Lion said.