The moon hung high, myriad stars scattered across the deep blue, velvet-like sky. Unpolluted by industrialization, it appeared exceptionally clear.
Although the Tayman Archipelago's natural resources weren't particularly abundant, it remained one of the most picturesque tropical resorts, even among the thousands of islands in the entire Bantaan Archipelago.
Catherine and Violet hit it off imdiately. If Byron hadn't been there, they would have happily chatted deep into the night, perhaps even sharing a bed like the closest of friends.
Byron had just sowhat listlessly accompanied them for dinner.
No sooner had he finished than Catherine shooed him out of the Governor's Mansion, urging him to get back to work at Torrent Fortress with his like-minded bestie at full tilt.
As Byron walked alongside Violet on the moonlit white sand beach, his head hadn't quite wrapped around how things had taken such a turn.
"What are you spacing out for? Quick, carry your big sister's shoes."
Byron looked down to see Violet had already slipped off her high heels, her bare feet leaving a trail of delicate footprints on the white sand.
She had taken only a few steps before hooking the slender straps of her high heels with her finger and extending them toward him with a commanding, self-satisfied air.
Under the aegis of the Golden Law, only Byron possessed higher authority than Catherine; only by his side could her perception be blocked.
With no one else watching, Violet imdiately dropped her disguise and reverted to her true self.
Seeing Byron's surprise, Violet couldn't help but pout her pale cherry lips.
"What's wrong? Didn't you hear my bestie Catherine say that from now on, you should treat the sa way you treat her?
I've already beco her 'confidante,' you know.
And didn't we make a bet? If I could sort things out, you'd have to call 'Good Sister' three tis.
Little Byron, face reality. In this family, your status has just dropped.
Surely you're not thinking of going back on your word?"
Byron thought to himself:
Is she a confidante, or a Heartfelt Trouble who will empty Catherine's wallet? It's hard to say.
However, a promise was a promise. He glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then coughed and called out rather awkwardly,
"Good... Sister."
Although he wasn't entirely sure if this fell under a 'little brother's' duties, he good-naturedly took the high heels from her.
Violet imdiately bead with joy, her sapphire-blue eyes curving into crescents as she laughed.
"Haha, such a good boy.
Back when my mother, a Witch, disappeared during a trip to the Old Continent, and Father was always out at sea chasing his 'whaling' dream,
I couldn't find a single companion of similar age and status in all of Iron Anchor Bay.
When I was ho alone, aside from reading, what I wished for most was a little brother or sister to play with.
From now on, your big sister will look out for you. I'll even save so of the good stuff for you, hehehe..."
Clearly, the Bay Citizen Princess hadn't had a very happy childhood.
Although she had only acquired a 'hand--down' little brother, the fact that it was Byron naturally filled her with imnse joy.
Their Orphan's Alliance deepened further.
Of course, whether the young girl harbored any other sentints, no one could tell.
The girl, holding her skirt, skipped and hopped along the beach, her laughter, like silver bells, echoing far across the sand.
Only then did she display the innocent, carefree nature expected of a girl her age.
Passing by two tall coconut trees, she tugged Byron's sleeve again, cooing,
"Byron, this is my first ti in the tropics seeing green coconuts actually hanging on trees! I want to drink coconut juice."
Having accepted his new 'position' after the first "Big Sister," Byron found the subsequent calls ca without any ntal block.
After all, he'd done all this for Catherine before; tending to one more wasn't much different.
With a wave of his hand, he summoned a gust of wind that plucked two coconuts from the tree. A flick of his fingertip bored two small holes into their tough husks.
He handed one to Violet and kept one for himself.
Sipping coconut juice, they strolled along the beach, the feeling of being on vacation growing with every step.
The moonlight shimred like water, and the air was pleasantly mild.
Occasionally, they spotted crabs as large as millstones scuttling brazenly across the sand, and sea turtles larger than carriages leaving long furrows in their wake...
A red starfish stranded on the beach was comparable in size to a small sampan...
Everything fascinated Violet, who was visiting the Bantaan Archipelago for the first ti.
The further she advanced on the Transcendent path of the forbidden knowledge known as the Calamity Curse, the closer she felt to the sea.
Especially since her next step, the second sublimation ritual, would transform her into a non-human Transcendent Species, granting her the ability to morph into three types of aquatic Demon Monsters.
The Forbidden Book says the transformation is completely random. There are hundreds of docunted Demon Monsters and Transcendent beings. The "rmaid" form would be acceptable, and a "Siren"—a humanoid Demon Monster that sings in storms—would be barely tolerable. But if I turn into one of those other bizarre creatures…
She subconsciously glanced at Byron beside her.
He might not find that so easy to accept.
Noticing the girl sneaking glances at him, Byron touched his cheek, thinking there might be sothing on his face.
"What's wrong?"
The girl's thoughts, of course, couldn't be voiced. Violet casually changed the subject.
"Nothing much. I just feel that the further we are from the Old Continent, the more the ecosystem diverges from the mundane world and resembles the stuff of myths.
Creatures of such imnse size are truly rare on the Old Continent.
I wonder what the unknown world Father ventured into after leaving the Bantaan Archipelago is like?"
Hearing this, Byron thought she was feeling nostalgic and quickly comforted her.
"My informant, 'Fat Dragon,' is currently making inquiries among the Barbary Pirates about what transpired when the two Pirate Kings t back then.
If that yields nothing, once our strength has increased a bit more, we can directly confront the supposed Fourth-Order Heroic, 'Blue Hair' Barbarossa Halding, and demand answers. He was ambushed by the Governor of Havana and a large force of elite Third Order experts who boarded his ship. I heard he even lost an arm; I wonder if it's been reattached."
Warmth spread through Violet's heart. She knew that while Byron was ruthless to his enemies, he was exceptionally reliable towards his own people and never made empty boasts.
Even the grand prospects he outlined for his subordinates weren't just empty promises like those others made; he ant what he said and would actually deliver.
She tiptoed to pat his shoulder.
"Mm, but your current Class is still a bit too low.
Your personal strength and external influence must develop in tandem to avoid leaving any vulnerabilities.
Besides needing to advance to the Third Order as soon as possible, our industrialization also requires a much larger primitive accumulation of capital.
That's the aning behind 'conquest is superior to cultivation.'
After all, plundering others is far better than exploiting our own people.
The future is bright, though the road is winding, Mr. Byron. You must strive to plunder—no, I an, complete the primitive accumulation, oh."
With that, she took Byron's hand and, full of pep, gave a little wave.
"Let's go! We're heading ho to get to work. Charge! Charge! Charge!"
Byron nodded, then soared into the sky with the girl. Just as they were about to descend into the sea, he blew the conch horn.
The massive Sea Monster known as the Barnacle Crab, now their exclusive ans of transport, activated Deep Sea Leap, returning them to Rapid Stream Port.
「...」
Violet was decisive, diving into work mode the mont she arrived.
After obtaining the critical artifact, Crystal Skull No. 8 [Feathered Serpent God], her pace quickened even more.
While Crystal Skull No. 8 couldn't be used for mass production, it could bypass conventional manufacturing processes to directly fabricate key production equipnt on a small scale.
Even for sothing considered a jewel of the industrial Crown, as long as it was provided with blueprints, operating principles, and raw materials, the skull could manually fabricate a replica.
On the second day after their return to Torrent Fortress,
an iron-slting blast furnace—the design of which the two had remotely discussed and revised countless tis—transford from blueprint to reality, rising from the earth near the mining site.
It was a vertical, steel-shelled furnace with a circular cross-section.
The furnace shell was made of steel plates, lined internally with refractory bricks. The blast furnace body, from top to bottom, was divided into five sections: throat, stack, bosh, belly, and hearth.
The furnace belly stood 7.5 ters high, the hearth had a diater of 3.5 ters, and its volu was 477 cubic ters. It was designed for a daily output of 230 tons.
Byron could easily recall all the details he had encountered in his past life. However, his interest in these things had always been superficial; he had never sought a deep understanding.
Bringing them to fruition, however, required the help of true professionals.
He relayed what he could rember to Violet, who then used her Grand Artificer ability to analyze the principles.
The power of Crystal Skull No. 8, the Morningstar Light of Knowledge, synergized wonderfully with her Alchemy.
This combination amplified their capabilities, allowing them to transform ideas into reality in an incredibly short ti.
"Now *this* is professionalism!"
Gazing at the enormous, dark structure before him, Byron couldn't help but marvel.
His greatest utility, he mused, lay in finding various professionals to help him, then taking on the role of directing their efforts from the shoulders of giants.
"Bring up the raw materials! Fire up the furnace!"
Violet, dressed in a shirt and canvas work trousers, also wore a pair of brown goggles.
Her attire alone exuded professionalism, instilling confidence in any investor and making them feel their money was well spent.
Coke production was relatively simple: coal rely needed to be heated to over 850°C in a coking oven.
As the temperature rose, the organic matter in the coal decomposed. The volatile products escaped, leaving behind the non-volatile residue: coke.
Before Violet's arrival, the necessary coking equipnt had already been commissioned, continuously converting coal from inland Yucatan Island into coke for iron slting.
"Yes! Fire up the furnace and comnce charging!"
A group of highly capable Bear Spirit Warriors sprang into action at the command.
Iron ore, coke, and listone (the flux for slag formation) were loaded from the furnace top, while preheated air was blown in through eight tuyeres positioned around the lower part of the furnace.
The fundantal principle was that at high temperatures, the carbon in the coke would burn with the oxygen in the air to produce carbon monoxide. As this gas ascended within the furnace, it stripped oxygen from the iron ore, thereby reducing it to iron.
The initial firing process was exceptionally lengthy. However, once the furnace stabilized, it could operate continuously, day and night.
The fire burned for three days and three nights before the blast furnace finally reached the required operational standard.
"Tap the molten iron!"
At Violet's command, Byron, clad in full protective gear beside the Iron-slting Blast Furnace, forcefully pulled open the tap-hole with an iron hook.
WHOOSH—!
A wave of heat, intense enough to singe hair, billowed out.
Amidst a shower of sparks, orange-red molten iron gushed from the blast furnace. It flowed through an interdiate ladle and then slowly into a water-cooled continuous caster.
The molten iron poured from the iron notch. Simultaneously, the unreduced impurities from the iron ore, combined with flux like listone, ford slag, which was discharged from the slag notch.
The gas produced was expelled from the furnace top. After dust removal, it was used as fuel for hot-blast stoves, heating furnaces, coke ovens, and boilers.
As the newly ford pig iron ingots cooled and solidified, turning black, a wave of fervent cheers erupted from the onlookers, their faces all aglow with reddish light.
"OH—!"
"Ah, it worked!"
"Hahaha, we really did it! With this blast furnace, the massively consumptive and inefficient thod of charcoal iron slting will finally be swept into the dustbin of history."
Byron even used his Sailing Logbook to read the paraters of the iron ingots produced in this batch.
225 tons! Enough to cast sixty-four 32-pounder cannons, each weighing 3.5 tons!
Just as cheers filled the tallurgical factory,
the blast furnace itself erupted in a brilliant golden light.
Its epoch-making productivity instantly transford it into a powerful Second-Class Relic—[Iron-slting Blast Furnace]!
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