Free Web NovelIn the early morning, the workshop district on the west side of Red Tide Main City was still shrouded in mist.
The morning light slowly filtered into the factory area from the east, illuminating the swirling white steam and furnace smoke in the air, transforming the entire forging workshop into a dimly breathing steel monster.
The main gate creaked open, and Louis and his entourage slowly stepped into the pilot area.
He walked at the front, followed by Mike, Silco, Bradley, and the clear-eyed young genius, Hamilton, who carried a scroll of blueprints on his back.
Upon entering, a scorching wave of heat washed over them, mixed with the smells of coal tar, engine oil, and red-hot iron ingots, making their brows tingle.
“What a warm welcome,” Silco muttered, shielding himself from the steam with his sleeve.
But no one responded to him, as everyone’s gaze was already drawn to the massive, roaring steam forging machine.
“Clank, clank, clank—”
That was the beating of an iron heart.
The improved steam engine ran at an extremely high frequency, with the flywheel beside it spinning rapidly, driving the massive connecting rod forge hammer to strike down forcefully.
Sparks flew as the red-gold metal on the anvil was repeatedly flattened, curled, and then compacted.
Iron pieces were taking shape at a visible rate. The team of artisans was already in position, but seeing Louis arrive, they worked even harder.
A burly worker held the control lever steadily, his gaze fixed on the main shaft.
Another tall, thin man knelt to the side, rapidly jotting down records of air pressure and rotational speed, the paper already damp with steam.
Two apprentices took turns running forward to apply alchemical lubricant to the pistons, their movements swift but not frantic, their faces even flushed with excitement.
The old craftsman standing behind the main valve had beads of sweat on his forehead, occasionally turning the valve ring to adjust the rhythm of the steam jets.
Amidst the roar of steam, the forge hammer boomed like a war drum, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with the heat of the rhythm.
Mike stepped forward, his voice filled with pride, and introduced to Louis:
“Lord Louis, behold, this is ‘Heavy Hammer One.’ It’s a linked structure, with power coming from the steam piston pulling the flywheel shaft, which then transmits to the forge hammer joint.”
He raised his hand to gesture at the connection between the piston and the flywheel, his voice louder than the steam: “It can strike metal at a stable frequency, about twelve times more efficiently than manual labor, and it never tires or stops.”
Louis tilted his head, watching the rapidly spinning flywheel and connecting rod.
He didn't speak immediately, simply observing how the iron monster shaped the red-hot metal with each hammer blow.
Hamilton, standing nearby, saw Mike’s Hint and instinctively straightened his back, as if summoning a bit of courage.
“I—I drew its gear track structure,” he said, a little nervously, his voice not loud, but his eyes sparkled with light.
“I optimized the meshing precision between the piston and the flywheel. Under the third-scale steam pressure, it can—it can operate continuously and stably for over seventy cycles. It almost never loses speed.”
After Hamilton finished speaking, he lowered his head slightly, his hand unconsciously grasping the blueprint scroll behind him, his ear tips turning red.
Despite having met this legendary Lord who rebuilt the Northern Territory several times, he still hadn't gotten used to interacting with him.
Louis turned slightly, looking at the still-young man, and smiled softly: “Well done, Hamilton, better than I imagined.”
The young man froze, as if not realizing the compliment was directed at him.
“The fact that you thought of reducing the load on the structure rather than simply increasing pressure shows that you truly understand its operating principles,” Louis continued. “That’s not something you can achieve by rote memorization; it’s your own creation.
The path of steam has only just begun, and there’s a long way to go, requiring young people like you to keep moving forward. You’ve done very well, Hamilton.”
At that moment, Hamilton’s eyes widened, as if sunlight had shone into the deepest corners of his heart.
“Yes, yes! I will definitely keep working hard!” Hamilton hurriedly bowed, his voice trembling with excitement, almost cracking, as if he were about to ascend to heaven on the spot.
Mike, standing by, nodded, very proud of his closed-door disciple.
After inspecting Heavy Hammer One, Mike led the group to a nearby furnace.
It was a crushing furnace, embedded in the foundation, with a black cast-iron casing, operating at full speed.
Whoosh!
The blast port roared like a dragon’s mouth, hot air currents stirring up dust from the ground, and flames danced wildly within the furnace. The blacksmiths were pulling out iron blanks while the temperature was at its peak.
“The steam pressure, through these connecting rods,” Mike said, pointing to a set of steam pipes and gears, “drives the bellows to pump air, allowing for precise control of temperature fluctuations. Now, it maintains the entire furnace temperature.”
He grinned: “No more four strong men taking turns to pump the bellows. We’ve saved manpower, and the temperature is stable.”
Bradley nodded: “If this thing is deployed to every casting furnace, productivity will more than double.”
Louis took two steps closer, the heat washing over him: “Constant temperature, stable airflow, higher efficiency, and safer.”
Mike nodded vigorously beside him: “Indeed! Before, relying on manual bellows often resulted in uneven airflow, either not heating thoroughly or scorching the iron blanks.
It’s different now; according to our previous tests, this steam-powered blower can complete the heating curve within ten breaths, and almost always keeps it in the optimal temperature zone!”
“Which means,” Bradley interjected, his gaze sweeping over the artisans pulling out the iron blanks, “the same amount of coal is used less; the same amount of labor can produce more.”
“Exactly,” Mike said, his eyes crinkling with a smile, “and it can even link to multiple air vents, with one furnace powering three.”
Louis was noncommittal, simply nodding slightly, then slowly turned to Hamilton: “This one—did you also participate?”
“Uh, for this one, I only did auxiliary calibration,” the young man replied softly. “I modified the gear ratio of the blower’s intake valve to make the airflow changes smoother—”
Mike couldn't help but add: “Don’t let him be modest; several key parameters, all drawn on his blueprints! I never thought it could be adjusted so precisely!”
“Very good,” Louis simply commented.
But it made Hamilton’s shoulders twitch, and his earlobes flushed red again.
Louis didn't seem to notice, just nodded slightly: “Isn’t there another one? Take me to see it.”
So Mike led everyone to the back, to a brick and stone well house with mottled walls and a tin roof.
Pushing the door open, the steam pump was already running at full speed, pistons clanking up and down with ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) a distinct rhythm.
Thick copper pipes spiraled up the wall, water roaring, and an iron pipe emerged from the bottom of the well, connecting to an elevated water tank. Clear water gushed out like a silver snake, gleaming softly in the morning light.
“I designed most of this one,” Hamilton said, gathering his courage, a hint of shyness in his voice.
“I re-adjusted the valve flow ratio, and also the structure of the check valve so that one person can operate it.”
“It can draw water from a well six zhang deep,” Mike said, standing by, his eye wrinkles shaking with a smile.
“We just tested it this morning; it filled all the workshop’s water tanks in one go. It used to take six water carriers a whole morning, now it’s done in minutes!”
Louis quietly watched the steam pump still spewing steam, gazing at the continuously surging clear water in the elevated tank.
Then he looked back at the young man, standing ramrod straight, yet still nervously clutching the corner of his clothes.
He reached out and gently patted Hamilton’s shoulder: “You are the future of this city.”
Hamilton looked as if he had been struck by lightning, his face suddenly turning crimson, and after several seconds, he finally managed to stammer: “I, I, I will continue to work hard! I will definitely not let down, let down—!”
“Alright,” Louis said with a smile, interrupting him, then turned to Mike, “Record a first-class merit for him, award him a ‘Red Tide Artisan Medal’ and five hundred gold coins.”
Mike was stunned, then nodded with surprise: “Understood!”
“Furthermore,” Louis looked at the young man again, “from today onwards, I bestow upon you the title of ‘Master Artisan’.”
At these words, even Bradley raised an eyebrow.
What was the status of a “Master Artisan” in Red Tide?
The entire territory had fewer than five people with this honor, mostly old artisans of Mike’s caliber.
And now, this sixteen-year-old, still without a beard, standing amidst the roar of the steam pump, had received the same title.
“I... I will work hard!” Hamilton still managed only this sentence after a long pause.
Several young artisans had already cheered, gathering around Hamilton to celebrate.
Louis, standing at the edge of the crowd, simply smiled faintly, his gaze falling on the steam pump that was still clanking and wheezing.
He raised his hand to signal Bradley, his tone revealing a clear decision: “These three devices—the heavy hammer, the water pump, and the blower—immediately begin drafting unified workshop specifications and operating manuals.”
“Mass produce them,” Louis’s voice was calm but forceful, “prioritizing deployment in blacksmith shops, well areas, and densely populated smelting furnaces. Starting from Red Tide Main City, gradually extend to all major territories.”
“Understood,” Bradley pulled out his notebook and jotted it down.
Then Louis looked at the gushing clear spring from the water pump, contemplating for a moment, and finally spoke: “Quiet down, I’ll say a few words.” His voice wasn’t loud, but everyone present quieted down and looked at Louis, even the roaring sound of the water pump in the well house seemed to quieten slightly.
“The potential of these things,” Louis’s gaze swept over the flywheel, pistons, copper pipes, and blast furnace, “is far more than just these few items before you.”
“What I want is a path. Our own technological path.”
Louis’s tone was calm, yet carried a crushing force, like thunder sweeping over a mountain peak.
“You must try, create, and verify what steam can truly achieve.
You can try to turn it into power for forging, workshops that don’t rely on human or animal labor.
You can also create devices for agricultural irrigation, capable of replacing the water carriers of several people.
Try to make transport carts, using steam instead of horses. Imagine a team that can cross snowy paths without horses.
Even things for the battlefield. Make it move, turn it into a—a roaring iron beast.”
“If you can achieve that,” he looked around, paused, “then in the future, Red Tide will no longer have to bow to anyone.”
Mike was already boiling with excitement, and Bradley nodded silently, as if he had already written these words into the “Red Tide Future Plan.”
But the young man behind them was completely stunned.
Hamilton’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, looking at Louis as if hearing a divine revelation for the first time.
At that moment, countless structural sketches, gear assemblies, valve iterations, and pipeline routings erupted in his mind like a volcanic eruption. “It can’t just drive a hammer—if another diversion flywheel is connected... if it can turn, respond to operations—then isn’t that—”
“If we also add biased pressure valves, perhaps, perhaps we can make...” His hands unconsciously gestured in the air, muttering softly, as if dreaming, or as if creating a god.
“I must try, I must create something for Lord Louis that has never existed.” fгeewebnovёl.com
Louis quietly watched the young man.
Hamilton stood before the steam pump, immersed in a world that belonged only to him and machines.
“This is genius,” Louis murmured softly, then turned, his tone steady yet firm: “Effective immediately, establish the ‘Red Tide Mechanical Engineering Team,’ directly under the Artisan Department, specifically responsible for the research and development of steam engines.
Mike will be the team leader, overseeing everything. Hamilton will be the deputy team leader, participating in design, verification, and model prototyping.
This is one of the future priorities of Red Tide Territory, with resources prioritized and full support given.”
The moment the words fell, the entire workshop erupted like hot coals thrown into a furnace.
“We’re finally going to do something big!”
“Oh my god, can I design a weaving puppet that weaves by itself?”
“I want to build a flying iron bird, the kind that can jump off the city wall and not crash!”
“Don’t be silly, you! Why not build an iron claw beast that can dig, digging ten wells a day!”
“Get lost, I even want to make a working ox and horse that works by itself!” fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
The artisans gathered, as if liberated from suppression, freely letting their wild imaginations run riot, though most were unreliable. Mike also grinned, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with joy: “Understood! I’ll personally lead the team to build it; anyone who dares to slack off, I’ll personally hammer their head!”
Bradley raised an eyebrow, a rare expression of relief on his face: “The future of Red Tide—perhaps it truly lies hidden in this wisp of steam.” Meanwhile, Hamilton, pushed into the spotlight, still hadn't fully recovered.
He still stood by the pump, one hand tightly gripping the blueprint scroll, his gaze distant, as if chasing a yet-to-be-born monster steam war chariot.
It seemed that all the cheers and announcements hadn't interrupted him; he remained immersed in that world full of gears.
Just as the artisans were excitedly cheering, high-fiving each other, and sketching out ideas for “fire-breathing iron carts” and “flying water birds,” a rapid hoofbeat sounded from the stone path outside the workshop.
“Thump, thump, thump—!”
Everyone stopped laughing and turned around.
The iron gate creaked open, and a Red Tide Knight, covered in dust, rode in.
He quickly approached Louis, handing him a secret letter with still-wet wax: “Lord Louis, urgent message from Frost Halberd City!”
Louis’s smile faded as he steadily took the envelope.
On the pristine white paper, a gray-blue Frost Halberd emblem was quietly pressed.
He lowered his head, tore open the wax seal with his thumb, and pulled out the letter. Sunlight fell on his eyelashes, but could not hide the slight tightening of the light in his pupils.
This day, after all, had come.
