Chapter 931: Chapter 213: The Gathering Storm Before the Battle
Ashen Empire.
Southeastern part of the Anzeta Great Wilderness, known as the “City of Cast Iron,” Hector City.
At four in the morning, the conveyor belt of the assembly line emitted a rhythmic clatter, those enormous machines like giant beasts devouring steel, chewing the female workers’ breaths into a unified rhythm.
“Two hundred twenty-seven, two hundred twenty-eight…”
The female worker Erin counted the two hundred and thirtieth shell sliding past her palm, the copper shavings embedded in her nail crevices glittering softly under the gas lamp.
When she put her cracked thumb into her mouth, she tasted the rust of bullet lubricant mixed with blood. She knew her fingers were already worn out and bleeding, yet she couldn’t stop for even a mont.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Among the roar of the steam hamr, the foreman shouted at the top of his voice: “We must complete the target set by the higher-ups before dawn! Rember, we’re making a contribution to the Empire!
The more bullets we produce, the more land our soldiers on the frontline can seize, and the Ashen Empire can advance toward His Majesty’s grand blueprint!”
“For the Empire!”
Several young workers raised their hands and shouted hoarsely, in their weary eyes, there was an uncontainable thrill.
The foreman nodded in satisfaction, saying: “Very good, keep it clean, the factory is like a battlefield, you are fighting for the Empire!”
Erin also wanted to demonstrate herself like those young workers and earn the foreman’s appreciation.
But Erin was really too tired, the work on the assembly line had consud her entire mind, leaving her unable to hear anything, only able to numbly repeat her actions—more workers were like her.
The steam pipes overhead wove a cobweb-like cage, condensation mixed with machine cutting fluid dripped into her nape, staining the collar of her work clothes with mold-like bluish-black.
Every five seconds, a 7.92mm rifle bullet slid into the pinewood box at the end of the conveyor belt, the lid boldly painted with the words “Southern Territory Special Supply.”
The so-called Southern Territory refers to the vast region south of the Anzeta Great Wilderness, known by almost all Imperial People as a fertile land flowing with milk and honey, full of unlimited possibilities.
rchants could dump and resell there, earning mountains of Gold Coin while soldiers could fight fiercely, gain military rit, and beco high-standing Dragonblood Nobility…
But unfortunately, Erin was just a woman with a ager background, without the capital to do business or the strength to go to the battlefield.
Years ago, Erin’s husband died in the Abyss War, though without military rit, she received a substantial compensation, allowing her to raise two children though she didn’t have a job.
But the good tis didn’t last, the war in North Aisier escalated, masses of personnel, food, and equipnt were transferred south, the Empire’s prices soared rapidly, and Erin’s life beca increasingly dire, hard to sustain.
To continue supporting her two children, Erin chose to respond to the Empire’s call, stepping into the factory, becoming a glorious female worker, receiving a salary of five silver coins each month.
“Three hundred and seven, three hundred and eight…” Erin silently counted, watching the bullets pass through the conveyor belt.
She knew the Empire was about to start another war.
Being a female worker, she particularly sensed this because ergency orders from the ammunition factory were often a harbinger of war.
Residing in Hector City, Erin could always get reports from the front lines through newspapers and broadcasts, learning that the Empire had successively occupied North Aisier, Shield Dwarf Plateau, Wuge Prairie.
As an Imperial person, she often felt a sense of pride and joy, but she occasionally felt perplexed—when will the war stop?
Since His Majesty Cassius led the soldiers to the South, seeking “land under the sunlight,” a series of wars seed like the northern winds of Anzeta, never-ending, seemingly never willing to cease.
“Erin, what on earth are you doing! Deford bullets appearing in the box!”
The supervisor’s stern voice ca from behind, interrupting Erin’s inadvertent contemplation, causing her a cold sweat, and quickly responding.
“Sorry, sir.”
The supervisor picked up the deford bullets from the box and said coldly: “You shouldn’t apologize to , but to the whole factory, don’t you know there’s a military quality inspection by the higher-ups?
If I hadn’t discovered it early, the entire Factory Thirteen would be penalized, and everyone would be disgraced!”
“I’m sorry…”
Erin’s fingers trembling as she picked the bullets, seed flustered and helpless.
The supervisor glanced at her, then his tone beca sowhat softened: “Alright, concentrate on work, don’t let your mind wander anymore, this ti I’ll dock one Silvernar’s pay from you… let it not happen again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Erin bowed her head numbly and soullessly responding.
A fine of one Silvernar looks like not much, but it requires her to work hard for days to earn it.
Next month… will be another ti of frugality and thrift.
“The damn conveyor belt is stuck again!” Station Thirty-Seven’s Martha suddenly scread, Erin watched the semi-finished bullet heads pile up at the conveyor belt’s junction, the brass avalanche quickly burying Martha’s rubber shoes.
The supervisor’s boot sounds exploded from the iron staircase, all the female workers’ necks tightened again, sweat seeping out of them.
“Damn fool!”
Under the supervisor’s angry scolding, the new girl Sofia sat beside her, her work pants pocket showing half a forbidden book, whispering: “Because the machine can’t recognize dud bullets, but hungry female workers can.”
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