Henwell had already, following tips shared by mbers in the cheat group, painstakingly crafted a steam engine by hand.
But there was one big problem, the cylinder’s seal just wouldn’t hold!
After a long struggle, Henwell finally discovered a rubber-like material.
With proper asurents, he made a microter and focused on crafting a set of machine parts with decent precision.
Now, it’s ti to start assembling!
This small steam engine’s parts are just precise enough for now, and the materials are tough as nails.
Everything uses high-level tal, heavily relying on improved Greensteel—renad Inksteel here in Peace Haven.
Fortunately, only the cylinder body uses Inksteel; otherwise, the cost would be astronomical.
The reason for using this expensive steel is simple, just avoiding the cylinder blows.
Henwell isn’t worried about damaging the cylinder itself, he’s mainly concerned about the safety of his precious master craftsn.
In the secret workshop area, now renad the Advanced Research Institute, Henwell and the others watch from a distance as the boiler slowly heats up.
High-pressure steam flows through pipes into the engine, and the big iron wheel begins to turn steadily.
Henwell stands there, stunned, then unconsciously steps closer.
The others follow, puzzled why this noisy, strange contraption holds such importance for Henwell.
Watching the wheel spin faster, driven by the crankshaft, Henwell’s eyes suddenly glisten with tears.
Since being reborn in this world, he never imagined he’d one day witness these machines co to life.
He waves the others away and quietly sits beside the steam engine, listening to the rhythmic roar of pistons moving back and forth.
Finally, he raises a hand to his eyes, and tears slip through his fingers, tracing down his cheeks.
He never expected that after his twenty-third birthday, he’d receive such a precious gift.
What echoes around him isn’t just the machine’s roar—it’s the footsteps and cries of the Industrial Revolution.
Henwell never thought hearing the sound of machinery running would stir such deep emotion in his heart.
No one knows how much ti passes before the pressure relief valve lifts, releasing a burst of scalding steam.
Only then does Henwell slowly rise, eyeing the modestly powered machine.
Steam hisses, steel wheels spin, pistons pump……
Henwell whispers softly, “Ten years. Give ten years, and I’ll make this entire continent tremble for your existence!”
“Why didn’t I notice this before? This thing is truly beautiful! The grandeur of industrial power!”
Without looking back, Henwell lunges forward, rolling out and drawing his longsword from his waist.
At the sa ti, the hidden crossbow on his arm clicks taut, firing a bolt toward the source of the sound behind him.
As Henwell pivots, his foot kicks up a cloud of dirt, flinging it at the person who spoke.
Just as he charges with his sword raised, he suddenly halts.
The figure opposite lowers the researcher’s robe that shielded them from the dirt and spits out the bolt clenched between their teeth.
“Ugh! What’s with you? You’re a noble now, yet you still use these dirty tricks? Throwing dirt, poisoning arrows—no noble class at all! But hey, that poison’s got a kick—spicy and numbing! Got more? Share so with !”
Henwell sizes up the man before him—Newwood.
After a long mont, he asks in sowhat rusty English, “Why are you here? What do you want from ?”
Newwood shrugs. “Buddy! Saying it like that hurts this ‘earth’ man’s feelings! In this strange world, finally eting another ‘earth’ man, and instead of inviting for a al, you question why I’m here? That’s a bit cold, don’t you think? You should at least invite over for tea! And if you had a few pretty maids to give a foot rub, that’d be even better!”
Seeing Henwell still wary, Newwood rolls up his sleeve, revealing a strange tattoo on his left forearm—a fierce hound’s head, now glowing faintly.
“See that? Verification passed, right?”
Henwell looks at him, puzzled.
Just then, a private ssage pings in his chat group: ‘Target ally identity confird!’
Still skeptical, Henwell asks, “You’re like ? A selector? Why aren’t you in the chat group?”
Newwood doesn’t answer. “You planning to talk here all day?”
Henwell thinks for a mont. “Na a place. I’ll et you.”
Newwood waves dismissively. “Keep your door unlocked tonight. I’ll co find you.”
With that, he vanishes into thin air.
Henwell lingers in place for a long mont before picking up the crossbow bolt from the ground.
He pulls out a piece of paper to carefully wipe it clean, then cautiously slips it back onto the arm crossbow.
The paper itself goes into his pocket, he plans to toss it into the boiler later.
This is a potent poison he developed while researching various healing potions.
Henwell has tested it; it’s a neurotoxin-like poison, incredibly lethal.
Just a tiny amount can kill a knight.
He doesn’t even have an antidote, so it demands extre caution.
After tidying up, Henwell returns to testing the steam engine’s components.
He keeps at it until afternoon, then heads toward the Blood Hill manor.
Though Newwood’s sudden appearance caught him off guard, Henwell feels mostly helpless.
A Glory Knight……
Forget capturing or expelling him—Henwell doesn’t even know how to defend against soone like that.
That night, Henwell instructs his servants to rest early and cancels the night patrol.
He waits quietly in his study for Newwood’s arrival.
But deep into the night, Newwood never shows up.
Frowning, Henwell thinks maybe the guy won’t co after all, so he retires to his room.
No sooner does he shed his armor and lie down than a head pops out from under the bed.
“Surprised? Shocked?!” Newwood grins mischievously.
Henwell springs up like a startled fish, lunging for his weapons rack.
Newwood crawls out from under the bed like so sleazy, creepy suitor.
Veins bulging on his forehead, Henwell snaps, “What the hell are you doing hiding under my bed?!”
Newwood dusts off imaginary dirt and pouts, “Didn’t I tell you during the day? I said keep your door unlocked! Why didn’t you co in?”
Henwell feels his blood pressure rising and finally snaps, “Are you crazy or sothing?!”
“Eh? How’d you know? Did you check my dical records?” Newwood beams, hands on hips. “Pretty impressive, huh? Look at ! Isn't it really impressive?”
Henwell starts to believe this guy might actually be nuts.
Damn it!
He ets an “earth” man—
And he turns out to be a certified lunatic!
What’s worse, this lunatic’s got a ton of powerful enemies and serious skills.
This could get dangerous real fast.
Newwood tilts his head, eyeing Henwell: “You thinking sothing rude right now?”
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