Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

As for where the problem lay? The two blacksmiths hadn't figured it out yet.

But the iron smelting furnace that had taken a vast amount of manpower, resources, and time to build couldn't just be wasted, could it?

So, after some deliberation, they decided to abandon their dream, embrace reality, and made do with the mistake by transforming the "blast furnace" for use as a "bottom-blown furnace".

The traditional bloomer furnaces usually had air blown in from the top or the middle, while, as the name implies, bottom-blown furnaces introduce air from the bottom. This is because the larger the furnace body, the worse the effect of top blowing.

The two weren't planning on letting the "iron" flow out on its own, as it was too troublesome. They simply let the smelted iron settle at the bottom of the furnace to be taken out in one go, hence the term "bottom iron".

Without the ability for the iron to flow on its own, continuous operation was impossible. Therefore, each time a batch of iron was smelted, the furnace had to be dismantled. This kind of drastic step backward also had one advantage: simplicity.

Winters mused and retorted, "I understand what you two are getting at. Although the original plan was to buy a horse, you are preparing to lead a donkey back to me."

Carlos, choking back tears, flattered, "Your analogy is quite apt."

In fact, according to Carlos's thoughts—although he didn't mean it, leading back a donkey was better than leading back a horse.

Tess was very afraid: If he truly succeeded with the blast furnace, Winters wouldn't save his brother—alas, clever Tess.

Winters suppressed the urge to kick the young blacksmith again and asked Soria, "You mean to say that we should use this iron smelting furnace as a large bloomer furnace, right?"

"It's not exactly like that, my lord," Soria quickly joined the ranks of flatterers, after all, he was partly responsible for the failure of the iron smelting furnace.

Soria squeezed out an ingratiating smile: "A bottom-blown furnace is still much better than the old-fashioned bloomer furnaces. If I have to say something, the bottom-blown furnace could be considered the father of the blast furnace. Although we couldn't 'lead' back a blast furnace, we've managed somewhat to 'lead' back the father of the blast furnace to you…"

The gap in the furnace wall had opened up large enough for a huge clump of fiery "something" to be hooked out from the furnace chamber.

Winters and the others approached to see what it was.

Winters had never seen an iron-smelting workshop, but this clump of "something" was far different from the "iron" he knew.

The thing before him was glowing red at the edges and intensely yellow inside. It appeared loose and porous, with very uneven material. If pressed to describe it, it did indeed resemble heated iron.

At least there were some black slag scattered on it, resembling sesame seeds sprinkled on bread.

"Is this iron?" Winters frowned.

Soria bent over and examined it closely for a while, then assured with a strike of his palm, "Yes, it's iron! It looks a bit like sponge iron, but it's also not quite like it! Come, give me an axe!"

A small worker hurriedly handed Soria an axe.

"Gentlemen, please step back a bit," Soria requested, "everyone else too, stand back, Mr. Carlos, you stay!"

Including Winters, everyone consciously retreated about four to five meters away.

Soria picked a good spot on the lump of iron, placed the axe blade on it, held the handle with both hands, and yelled to Carlos, "Mr. Soria! Come!"

Carlos also dried his tears and briskly picked up a sledgehammer.

The young blacksmith first tapped lightly three times on the back of the axe. Once the blade was embedded half an inch into the iron lump and could withstand the force, Carlos steadied himself, gathered his strength, and with a grunt, swung the sledgehammer down hard onto the back of the axe.

Winters, who was watching, thought he saw a hint of two-handed swordsmanship in that powerful hammer blow.

The loose and porous iron lump was instantly cleaved open, revealing an even hotter, more dazzling core.

Carlos's hands didn't stop, he continued to hammer down hard, his strikes accurate, always landing squarely on the back of the axe.

Sparks flew and slag scattered, but Soria was undeterred, steadying the axe firmly.

At this moment, Carlos was no longer the crybaby, and Soria was no longer the paunchy, smooth-talking city council member.

Now they were both just blacksmiths.

The rhythm and beauty of the sound from the hammer striking the axe were like a metronome, and Winters barely resisted the urge to clap along.

The middle-aged blacksmith and the young blacksmith worked closely together, quickly cutting the still-burning large lump of iron into eight smaller pieces.

"That'll do," Soria wiped the sweat from his forehead and smiling, approached Winters, "Sponge iron is easier to handle when it's just out of the furnace, as it gets harder when it cools. It's been a long time since I've gotten my hands dirty. My apologies for any unprofessionalism."

Soria's cotton clothes had been peppered with small holes burned by the flying slag, but his smile was carefree.

It was only then that Winters realized that Soria was a blacksmith who could swing a hammer and bend metal. Until now, he had actually lumped Soria in with the likes of businessmen like Priskin.

"You did quite well," Winters commended, then followed up with a question, "Cut it into small pieces? Why?"

Soria answered, "A big lump of iron is hard to handle. Smaller pieces are more convenient for forging."

"Forging? You still need to forge it?" Winters continued to inquire.

Asking when unsure was one of Winters's good habits; he didn't care about saving face.

"There's slag mixed in the iron, so forging will help clean it out," Soria patiently explained to the young Bailiff, "It involves first forging it into thin plates, from which the slag will naturally peel off. Next, you fold it, then forge it into thin slices again... that's the meaning of 'thousand hammerings, hundred foldings'."

"Forge?" Winters immediately thought of water-powered trip hammers and half-jokingly said, "Are we really going to have to hand this over to the workshops of Forging Village to 'forge' it next?"