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Now reading: Chapter 471 - 302: Research Institute2 from Our Family Has Fallen, a Game novel by Incompetent and cowardly.

Lance utilized the river flowing through the town to forge a hydraulic forging hamr, reducing the workload for crafting rough parts. He also streamlined the process by adopting a division of labor, where each worker specialized in different steps rather than each being responsible for crafting a complete musket.

At the sa ti, he introduced standards for workpieces. Bonuses were offered on top of basic wages for quality work, rewarding hard work and productivity. Inferior workpieces were rejected. At regular intervals, the material wastage ratio was calculated and posted on the leaderboard, with monetary rewards for the top three perforrs.

Money paved the way. Despite the especially hot and dry conditions from the forge’s high temperatures, the craftsn’s enthusiasm remained undampened. Everyone was busily engaged in their work.

Lance continued further in. In the back was the shooting range where Eugene and the researchers were testing this new type of musket.

Lance’s gaze rested on the firearms held by the testers.

There weren’t many significant improvents, but one visually striking feature was the long bayonet now attached to the muzzle.

However, the focus was not on this. He observed how the individuals used the muskets.

According to the mainstream use at the ti, the process involved taking out a cartridge, pouring so prir into the pan, followed by loading the right amount of propellant into the muzzle, then packing the bullet, and finally, pulling back the hamr to aim and fire.

This procedure ant that the musket could fire at most two or three shots per minute, and that was just based on test data. On a real battlefield, as Barton said, sotis they couldn’t even manage one shot a minute.

Moreover, after firing a shot, the musket beca nothing more than a burning stick before it could be reloaded. Soldiers on a fierce battlefield, seeing their comrades fall one by one, would easily panic. They might even misload due to trembling hands, potentially pouring in too much gunpowder and causing a burst barrel.

But what was interesting was that the testers were no longer using cartridges to reload; instead, they took out a paper package.

The tester bit open the paper package, poured so of the gunpowder into the pan as the prir, then directly stuffed the remaining wrapped powder into the gun barrel, ramd it down, pulled back the hamr, aid, and fired.

BANG!

The distant target shook, showing that these testers were experienced Gunners.

Lance was not very knowledgeable about weaponry like cannons, but he had read so novels. From them, he knew of several famous improvents to the Flintlock Gun, such as the bayonet and paper cartridges.

When he was in Totnes, he had brought this up with Master Eugene, and they started research imdiately upon his arrival, which was not particularly difficult.

Both of these modifications had passed tests a while back and could be equipped by troops once retrofitted. They could then abandon piken and convert all infantry into Musketeers. The bayonets would allow them to retain so close-combat capabilities.

A soldier trained for half a month could kill a Knight who had trained for over a decade with just one shot—this was progress.

Of course, those were ordinary soldiers; truly elite forces must retain powerful close-combat abilities and even more formidable firepower.

"My Lord!"

"How’s the situation?" Lance didn’t bother with pleasantries and cut straight to the point.

"Everything that needs to pass the test this ti is ready," Eugene indicated with his hand, and one of the testers wheeled out a wooden box which, once opened, revealed neatly stacked tal spheres the size of fists, each with a fuse attached and sealed with wax for protection.

Without a doubt, this was—a bomb.

This was precisely the reason for his visit; the army lacked heavy firepower and appeared helpless when facing non-human monsters.

The batch of bombs Barton brought previously had been used up, so Lance needed to quickly co up with a replacent to strengthen the army’s firepower.

Incendiary bombs, regular bombs, muskets—these were all items that could be produced and could increase combat capacity in a short ti.

"Please try it, my Lord. It essentially ets your requirents, with an explosive kill radius of three ters and shrapnel damage reaching up to ten ters, inflicting significant casualties on dense, unarmored formations."

Lance picked up a bomb to feel its weight, finding it quite heavy due to the thick cast iron shell, a result of manufacturing limitations.

"What’s the throwing distance?"

"I’ve had it tested. Thirty-four ters is the best performance, and the worst is twenty, averaging around twenty-four. The weight is still too great. We need to optimize the process to reduce it. It’s also best to have cover when throwing," Eugene, ever the practical craftsman, replied.

Lance didn’t waste words and imdiately lit the fuse of the bomb he held. The wax lted and seeped into the fuse. Observing its steady burn, he knew the quality was reliable.

He certainly did not want his soldiers to receive unreliable weapons, especially bombs. Once a self-detonation occurred, it could easily cause morale to collapse.

Eugene and the others consciously held their breath as they watched the bomb right in front of them, their full attention fixed on the fuse that was burning down at a slow but steady pace.

All their previous tests had involved lighting the fuse and throwing the bomb imdiately. So what did their Lord want to do now?

So testers couldn’t help but step back, knowing full well from their daily tests that the power of an explosion could kill everyone present.

Fortunately, Lance observed for only a mont before casually tossing it. Yet, the bomb flew out like a Bomb, its exaggerated speed dumbfounding everyone.

Only then did a distant explosion awaken them from their shock.

The ground was marked, so the testers could estimate the explosion distance at a glance. Yet, at this mont, they seed sowhat reluctant to confirm.

"The 100-ter marker is still further out; it’s already beyond our testing ground."

"How much?"

"At least 120 to 130."

"I want precise data," Eugene said sowhat irritably. He had seen it himself; he needed exact figures.

The testers imdiately ran to asure, but Lance just smiled.

"My data has no reference value. It’s better to think of a way to refine the process and reduce the weight."

Although Lance said this, the data he had just created would definitely spread through these people, and he would not miss any opportunity to proclaim his own strength.

Soon, the bomb project was put on hold amid various tests. To be honest, Lance was still not quite satisfied; he had used bombs made in Totnes, which were more powerful.

In fact, these craftsn could make them too. After all, they all ca from the sa production line. However, those devices were ant to be fired from cannons, and Lance currently needed a throwable type.

This still required ongoing research and gradual improvent. Lance knew that technology accumulated experience and improved through constant trial and error—it couldn’t happen overnight.

"Continue testing."

Lance’s visit was not just for the bomb project but for several different projects.

Following his command, the product for the next project was also brought out.

"This is the smoke grenade developed according to the Lord’s requirents. Once lit, it can generate a large amount of smoke in a short period. This smoke in itself has a certain irritating quality that can cause eye pain, nausea, and a burning sensation in the respiratory tract..."

The detailed experiences Eugene described could obviously not have co from the testers but were instead gained from using so "patients" from a sanatorium.

Lance picked up a fist-sized tal can with one side open, revealing cloth inside. With no concept of chemical reactions at this ti, smoke production depended entirely on the material used. These tar-soaked linens would emit thick smoke when burning incompletely.

And the smoke grenade before them was clearly the result of this research, simple yet marked by a sense of helplessness.

The need for smoke grenades arose primarily from Lance’s previous experience leading troops to a town to exterminate Heretics. There, he had recognized the problems the army faced in confined spaces.

Buildings restricted them, and ambushes were too easy—smoking the enemy out of their holes seed like the right approach.

After observing the tests, Lance could only conclude the results were poor. So didn’t even ignite. Those that did either failed to produce smoke or did so incompletely and inconsistently. Also, the speed at which they produced smoke was too slow, and the amount too little.

"This project needs continued improvent. How’s the research on signal flares?"

Just as Lance was preparing to complete the remaining tests, a soldier suddenly rushed over to report to him.

"Report! Fishern have spotted Pirate traces in the coastal waters."

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