Exploring Technology in a Wizard World

The infiltration of the mines by the members of the Truth Society, sparking battles, more or less caused some confusion among the miners.

However, during the adjustments personally guided by Richard, these confusions gradually returned to normal.

Following the plan, Richard carried out various processes to lay the groundwork for facing the members of the Truth Society.

Just like that, three days passed in a flash.

...

Three days later, in the dead of night.

At the Shambhala Uranium Mine, most areas were quiet, while a few were busy. Some miners were handling unfinished work from the day, loading the mined ores into boxes and transporting them to the processing factory at the foot of the mountain. Other miners prepared for the work after dawn, carrying "fire bombs" delivered from the factory, burying them into the drilled rock holes.

"Clatter clatter!"

"Bang bang bang bang!"

Various noises occasionally echoed, spreading in all directions under the night sky and gradually dissipating.

In the distance, within a newly established miner's accommodation camp, in the corner room, over a dozen strong men were fast asleep.

This was a newly formed demolition team led personally by the most experienced demolition leader—Didak. At this moment, these men, after a tense and busy workday, were deeply asleep, striving to recover their physical strength, while also dreaming various dreams.

In the corner, one strong man was grinding his teeth, clutching the corner of a quilt and stuffing it into his mouth, clearly eating something in his dream.

Beside him, another strong man's facial muscles twitched continuously, as if he had a stroke. His whole body muscles were taut, eyes darting beneath the eyelids, appearing very tense. Clearly a nightmare, either being chased or pursued for debt in the dream.

The strongman sleeping in the middle looked very different from many others, seeming quite peaceful. However, his legs unconsciously moved together, his body swaying slightly. His head on the pillow occasionally twisted, his brow gradually furrowing as though searching for a convenient place in the dream.

Search.

Keep searching.

After a moment, the strong man's furrowed brow suddenly relaxed as if he found a place, and he completely relaxed. His clamped legs released, and the long-suppressed gate within him was unleashed.

It seemed that, in the next moment, a 'flood' was about to break loose.

At this moment, the dreaming strongman suddenly sensed something wrong, abruptly opened his eyes, sat up, and realized he was on a bed, forcibly closing the internal gate, causing his whole body to tremble from the abrupt action.

Then, holding his breath, the strongman quickly slipped out of bed, dressed up, and dashed outside.

Outside was a heavy blanket of night. Overhead, like a vast, black cloth draping the entire sky, only far in the horizon, there was a faint starlight peeking through as if the black cloth had some damage.

However, the strongman had no mood to enjoy this, clutching his abdomen, rushing towards the edge of the camp.

Two hundred meters from the camp, there was a constructed large latrine, a place frequented by nearly a thousand people from several surrounding camps.

That was the strongman's target.

Yet halfway there, the strongman couldn't hold it anymore, feeling the internal gate about to burst open. He swiftly stopped, fixed his stance, facing a nearby withered grass thicket.

"Swoosh!"

With the sound, the expression on the strongman's face gradually changed from pain to relief.

"Swoosh swoosh..."

The sound kept going, still continuing half a minute later, the strongman felt it wouldn't end for another half minute, then turned his head somewhat boredly to look around.

His gaze swept across the pitch-black night sky, finally landing on the withered grass thicket in front of him.

Raising an eyebrow, he glimpsed something amidst the withered grass that was slightly glowing.

Hmm?

What's that?

The strongman shuffled a bit forward, getting closer to the withered grass, and then saw it clearly. Within the withered grass, a feather was caught, entirely snow-white, possibly left by a duck or some bird. Strangely enough, the feather was glowing, emitting a faint golden light.

Glowing?

The strongman felt intrigued.

Under normal circumstances, he would cautiously pick up the feather, carefully observe it to see what was going on.

But in this deep night, having been jolted awake, his mind wasn't fully alert. So, without much thought, he instinctively made a move.

He inched his body forward and poured forcefully over the glowing feather.

"Swoosh..."

He missed slightly and didn't hit it.

"Swoosh..."

Missed again, still didn't hit it.

"Swoosh swoosh!"

He hit it!

With repeated adjustments, the strongman finally managed to pour liquid onto the feather, showing a victorious expression. Subsequently, he observed the feather drenched with liquid suddenly turning crimson red.

Hmm? Changed color?

The strongman blinked, yet before he could react, the feather already moved.

"Whoosh!"

From some unknown force, the feather, against gravity, surged upward like a needle, darting just centimeters away from the strongman.

Then, the feather charged through narrow passages, directly entering the strongman's body.

"Ah!"

The strongman shrieked painfully, yet only half a scream escaped before he seemed to be choked silent.

"Thud!"

The strongman toppled to the ground, his hands clutching tightly at the spot where the feather bore into him, his face turning beet red as his entire body began to convulse.

...

Gradually, the strongman ceased movement.

Gradually, expression faded from the strongman's face, his vital signs becoming imperceptible, as though he had perished.

Then five minutes elapsed.

Five minutes later, the strongman's tightly shut eyes slowly opened, fumbling to stand, glancing around.

Subsequently, observing his own hands and body, his gaze appeared somewhat dazed.

"I..." the strongman spoke, a hint of uncertainty in his self-muttering voice, "Am I... Ulus?" His name was Lusco Ulu.

But just as he said this, the strongman abruptly shook his head, revealing a sinister expression: "No, no! I am not Lusco Ulu. Hmph, how could I be a lowly miner? My name is Bell Chikaf!"

"Yes, I am Bell Chikaf! I am the inspector sent by Lord 'Gray Mist', responsible for overseeing the regional operations in the Southern Free Federation." The strongman nodded forcefully, his eyes growing bright, "Yes, I am Bell Chikaf, and what I must do is..."

But as he reached the end, the strongman's voice momentarily halted, his expression first showing a bit of struggle, then turning indifferent, ultimately an edge curling up at his mouth.

"Heh!" The strongman let out a disdainful sound, speaking in a magnetically ambiguous voice, "I am not Bell Chikaf!"