Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party that Traveled to Another World

In the factory where steam and metal roar, the boring machine like a steel behemoth stands tall, and the workers slowly hoist the rough blank of the cast iron barrel to the center of the boring machine with iron chains and pulleys.

As the hydraulically driven flywheel starts up, the boring tool pierces the barrel like a precise scalpel, and the sparks and iron filings splash like a golden rainstorm, and the air is filled with the smell of hot metal.

Workers no longer need to hammer repeatedly based on their feel and experience - the gears and connecting rods of the boring machine advance with a steady rhythm like a mechanical pulse, cutting every inch of the inner wall of the barrel as smooth as a mirror, with an error of no more than the thickness of a coin.

In the mist of coolant and steam, the barrels on the assembly line complete their transformation one by one: the once rough cast iron shells are given standard curvature and caliber, and are neatly arranged on the inspection table like copies, reflecting the industrial civilization's cold pursuit of perfect repetition.

The sunlight shines through the high windows of the factory building on the rows of black gun barrels. The cold and straight metal axis seems to announce the advent of a new era - the manufacture of war machines finally leaps from the fingertips of craftsmen into the absolute realm of steel and mathematics.

The generals of the royal army from Jingyao watched this scene solemnly. Everyone wanted to say something, but they couldn't say anything. Before visiting here, the scene they could think of was: the skilled craftsman led the apprentices, holding heavy hammers and hammering, just like the blacksmiths on this continent have done for thousands of years.

Although their creations are more ingenious - using violently expanding gas to stimulate metal projectiles, the way to make these magical creations is not much different from the way to make ordinary swords. As long as the right idea is found, what the Arda craftsmen can do, the craftsmen in other places can also do.

But the scene in front of them tore the above picture to pieces, but everyone can draw conclusions by intuition, which way is more advanced and which way is more backward.

Humans often have super sharp intuition for things that are stronger, more advanced, and more powerful. They can roughly judge the level of things based on their appearance, just like the more beautiful a fighter plane is, the higher its combat effectiveness is.

The visual effects of the scenes of mass production by machines are different from those of traditional handicrafts.

It is obvious that the production method of Alda has far exceeded the general level of other places in this era.

…

Since the victory of the Black Worm's Nest, Stanford has begun the process of controlling the three northern lands.

He first used Gunther's attack on the Black Worm's Nest as an excuse to attack the Blood Bull Tribe, demanding that the Blood Bull Tribe submit to Marquis Graman as punishment for this attack.

At this time, Asoye, the chief of the Blood Bull Tribe, realized the stupidity of his eldest son, and Gunther was dead.

This incident undoubtedly dealt a heavy blow to Asoye. Although he knew that Gunther was unreasonable first, he still rejected the request of the Black Worm's Nest.

Stanford was not polite to the chieftain, whom he always called an old friend in his letters. He immediately organized a team of more than 5,000 soldiers to attack the border. There were humans and orcs who had surrendered.

The two sides fought fiercely in the forest near the settlement of the Blood Bull Tribe.

The orc warriors with primitive equipment shouted angrily, holding weapons made of stone and pouring out of the gaps in the woods like a tide, and rushed towards the human army fiercely.

However, the army of the Black Worm Nest dispatched muskets and cannons, and they immediately started to fight back. For a while, there were constant explosions and thick smoke rushing into the forest, causing serious visual interference to both sides.

The orc warriors who surrendered acted as meat shields, fighting with the warriors of the Blood Bull Tribe with height and physique that were not inferior to the opponent. Although they were not equipped with muskets, the equipment in their hands was made of metal, which was still better than the Blood Bull Tribe warriors who were generally equipped with stone weapons. When the surrendered orcs entangled the enemy, the musketeers behind them would look for opportunities to give the enemy a fatal blow.

In the end, the army of the Black Worm Nest controlled the enemy with its equipment advantage. More and more bodies were lying in the Blood Bull Tribe. After several hours of fierce fighting, the Blood Bull warriors who felt that victory was hopeless fled to the depths of the forest.

Chief Asoye was protected by the warriors who were still loyal to him, but it was too late to retreat. The human army rushed in from all directions and surrounded them.

The old orc was already seriously injured. He knelt on the scorched earth with a hunched back. His armor full of cracks had long been torn into pieces by lead bullets. Several blood holes as big as bowls were blown open on his bare chest. Under his dark green skin, there was rotten flesh burned by gunpowder.

His broken axe was deeply wedged into the soil, serving as a crutch to support his body. The faded battle pattern jumped between the wrinkles with muscle spasms.

The loyal warriors around him were in no better situation than the chief. They were either exhausted or seriously injured, and they were all holding on with one breath.

Hearing the sound of muskets loading ammunition in the smoke, Asoye's turbid one eye suddenly burst into a fierce light, and the rolling war cry in his throat splashed out with blood foam. The warriors around him also raised their weapons, determined to fight this hopeless battle to the end.

"Bang!"

The volley of muskets made a huge roar, and the last warriors of the Blood Bull Tribe fell one after another. One of the bullets rotated and pierced Asoye's forehead, solidifying the last unfinished roar into the eternal echo of this forest.

No mistake, one sentence, one content, one book, one bar!

When the smoke cleared, the body with thousands of holes lost its last support and fell to the ground powerlessly.

The Black Worm's Nest won the victory. With the power of victory, the human army issued an ultimatum to the indigenous tribes on this land who had always been hostile to them. They either chose peace - of course, peace under the rule of Arda - or were expelled to the northern ice field.

As the most powerful tribe here, the Blood Bull Tribe, whose chieftain Asoye has always had a strong prestige, was destroyed in one day, leaving all the indigenous tribes hostile to humans without a flag. Therefore, the Black Worm's Nest controlled the three northern lands very smoothly.

It was at this time that Alvis and his attendant Marek came to the three northern lands.

After a long journey, they were already exhausted physically and mentally. Even their clothes were torn by the wind on the grassland. The two of them each led a horse as skinny as them and broke into the forest.

Perhaps as compensation for their misfortunes along the way, the door of luck finally opened to the two travelers. With the deepening control over the three northern lands, Arda's stronghold had penetrated deep into the forest, so they soon came across a trading post, received timely relief, and continued to move towards the Black Worm's Lair under the guidance of the staff.