Chapter 531: Chapter 4: The Factory Chapter 531: Chapter 4: The Factory “That is the Isdalia Grand Coliseum, where gladiator matches are held regularly.”
“This is the Red Scale Guard Station, the headquarters of the Red Scale Conqueror Corps.”
“You an that group? They are from the Imperial Army. It’s said that demons have been appearing recently, so they’re conducting very strict inspections in the city.”
Jose and his group continued walking along the main road, listening to Hera’s introductions about the things they saw along the way.
“Mr. Jose, up ahead is the headquarters building of the Klaubow Armant Group. That should be your destination…”
“Such a tall building.”
Jose raised his head and saw a tall building with over a dozen floors in the distance, with “Klaubow Armant Group” written prominently at the top.
The entire building seed to be made of special bricks and stones, with little additional decoration, exuding a distinctive imperial style. It was said to be supported by steel reinforcents.
At the building’s entrance, aside from the emblem of the Ashen Empire, there was also the group’s logo of firearms, cannons, and dragon wings intertwined.
The area was bustling with people, hurrying about. There were rchants from various places, tax officers holding docunts, and many soldiers in military uniforms with handguns at their waists.
Jose curiously walked into the building, while Hera stepped forward to speak quietly with the receptionist.
Soon, a man in formal attire, with a steady gait, approached with a smile and extended his right hand warmly.
“You must be Mr. Jose, one of the principals of the Pearson Comrce Guild. I’ve heard so much about you.
I am Ruvain Craig, a senior salesman of the group, specifically responsible for receiving distinguished guests like you.”
Being a smooth-talking businessman, Jose imdiately reacted, putting on a polite smile and extending his hand for a handshake.
“You flatter . I am just an ordinary mber of the Pearson Comrce Guild, entrusted temporarily to represent the guild.”
“Not at all. The Pearson Comrce Guild is the most powerful guild in Thrace and one of our major clients.”
“In that case, I must trouble you, Mr. Ruvain.”
Ruvain led Jose and his group into the building for a tour, seizing the opportunity to promote the group’s new product, the “Wyvern Fla” series rifles.
“…This is an important milestone. It has undergone further optimization in materials and structure, significantly improving shooting accuracy and reliability.
The second generation, while maintaining its original advantages, enhances soldiers’ mobility and flexibility in combat by shortening the gun’s length and reducing its weight, allowing it to quickly respond to various tactical needs in complex environnts…”
“It sounds impressive.”
Jose nodded slightly.
“The Pearson Comrce Guild is still concerned about the quality of these firearms. Money is a minor issue; the soldiers’ lives are what matter most.”
“You make a valid point.”
Jose stroked his beard and said nonchalantly, “So… seeing is believing.”
So things, you must see for yourself to know.”
That was his goal.
To steal the Empire’s firearm technology, understand their military situation, and make the necessary preparations.
Through this interaction, he had roughly determined that Ruvain was a greedy character motivated solely by profit.
As long as enough money was offered, there might be sothing to uncover. As for that fervent believer Hera, he had given up trying to win her over.
“Mr. Jose, do you want to tour the group’s firearm production process?
No problem, I’ll take you right now.”
Before Jose could respond, Ruvain spoke decisively.
“Well, okay.”
Jose was slightly stunned, then realized and nodded lightly.
He initially thought he would need to go through a negotiation process, using interests to persuade the other side, which was quite typical for soone like him, navigating among the nobility as a “White Glove.”
But Jose never expected the other party to agree so directly, as if it was just a trivial matter.
Could this be a trap?
Despite his apprehension, Jose resolved to complete the task entrusted by the prince.
He aid to obtain blueprints of the firearms and, ideally, recruit a few skilled imperial craftsn so that the Thrace Kingdom could produce such weapons.
Ruvain took Jose and his group on a small steam locomotive within the city, heading to the southern part of the city.
He introduced, “This is the southern industrial district of Isdalia. This ti, I’ll take you to visit the Eleventh Armant Factory.”
Jose gazed at the massive complex in the distance, with towering smokestacks emitting gray smoke, and couldn’t help but marvel, “It’s truly magnificent.”
“So the firearms sold to the south are made here?”
“Of course, please follow .”
Ruvain walked ahead and spoke with the security at the gate before leading them smoothly through.
Upon entering the factory, Jose was once again stunned by the scene.
“Clang! Clang!”
The spacious workshop was filled with the roar of machines, bustling voices, and flying dust. Machines several ters high were neatly arranged.
The workers were busy on assembly lines, their expressions numb and their actions almost reflexive. Each person was responsible for a specific part of the process, whether checking gun barrels, assembling parts, or installing components…
“Listen up! As long as you et today’s quota, you’ll get a bonus!
If I catch anyone slacking off…”
The Earth Goblins Supervisor moved between the workshops, occasionally berating a worker in a rage.
Jose widened his eyes and opened his mouth, thinking to himself:
Machine.
A massive machine.
Not only the factory’s equipnt but also the living workers were just components for this massive machine’s operation.
Only now did he finally understand why Ruvain agreed so readily—there were no skilled craftsn; those producing the firearms were not individuals but the entire factory.
Ruvain spoke casually, “The group’s firearms go through multiple inspection processes to ensure quality. You have nothing to worry about.”
Jose couldn’t help but ask, “If there are skilled blacksmiths, can they independently forge these firearms?”
Ruvain replied, “Perhaps they can, but relying solely on manual labor inevitably cos with errors, requiring extrely skilled blacksmiths to achieve it.
Moreover, no matter how skilled you are, you can only produce a few rifles a day. The Empire’s factory produces tens of thousands of firearms daily.”
As he spoke, a sense of pride seeped into his tone.
At this mont, it was no exaggeration to call the Ashen Empire the “world’s armory.” The rifles they produced were sold overseas and even changed the course of wars to so extent.
Jose felt a sense of despair. If the Thrace Kingdom wanted to independently produce firearms, they would need to relocate the entire factory to the south.
Moreover, according to Ruvain, they would also need a supporting industrial system to supply materials for firearm production—this would an moving the entire imperial industrial district.
Jose thought to himself, “I’ve traveled across the Fianso Continent, but I’ve never seen a country like this…”
This is simply…
He pondered for a mont before finding the most suitable analogy.
“A massive machine designed for war and plundering wealth. That Emperor has turned living people into tools.”
Jose’s emotions were extrely complex.
After touring the armant factory, he told Ruvain that he needed to consider further before deciding whether to order the firearms.
Thus, Jose and his group were accommodated at a VIP hostel in the center of the imperial capital, and Hera, serving as their guide, took her leave.
But before she left, she said aningfully to Jose, “Do not harbor any illusions. His Majesty Cassius’ eyes see everything in the Empire.”
However, Jose did not take her words seriously. In his eyes, this guide was rely a brainwashed victim of the Evil Dragon Emperor.
At midnight, the sky was dark.
A barely noticeable sound erged in the room of the VIP hostel.
“Click.”
“What was that?”
Jose woke up from his sleep, sensing danger, his heart pounding. It seed that a shadow had passed by the window.
The guards at the door noticed nothing unusual.
“How is that possible?”
He looked down, his expression turning fearful—the mory stone disguised as a dal had been shattered by a tiny silver needle.
And beside him, there appeared a crumpled, blood-stained paper strip with the sa words he had heard during the day:
“His Majesty Cassius’ eyes see everything in the Empire.”
Jose’s face turned pale, cold sweat beading on his forehead: “How, how did they know?”
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