Raising all of humanity: Starting with a backyard pool world

Chapter 76 [The Triumph of Ideas]

Outside Iron Castle, the open-air public forge became the most bustling arena.

The surrounding high platforms were crowded with dwarves who were watching the spectacle.

"Have you heard? A bunch of mortals want to learn our craft, ha!"

"I bet he can't even light a furnace. These long-legged monkeys can't even distinguish the lowest quality black iron ore."

"The head apprentice is so kind, he's actually willing to play this kind of game with them."

The chatter and laughter were unrestrained.

The human team members clenched their fists, their nails digging deep into their palms.

Mason stood silently in the center of the forge, facing a dwarven-style furnace that was ten times better than the one in his tribe.

Bahrain stood not far behind him, his face grim. This confrontation was a blatant insult to the judgment of this seasoned prospector.

The other side in the duel was a representative personally selected by the head apprentice.

A young dwarf named Bron.

Bloom had only recently come of age and still had a somewhat childish look on his face, but the beard on his chin was already meticulously groomed.

Amid the cheers of the dwarves, Bronn strode to his forge.

He didn't even glance at Mason.

The battle horn sounded to signal the start of the duel.

Every step of Bron was imbued with the composure and rhythm that the dwarves had inherited for millennia.

He casually picked up a fine iron ingot and tossed it into the furnace.

Then, he simply stepped on the bellows pedal at the bottom of the furnace a few times, and the furnace fire obediently turned from orange-red to bright white.

The ability to control the heat is an innate instinct of the dwarves.

"Clang!" The first hammer blow rang out.

The hammer fell, sparks flying everywhere.

Pound, fold, and pound again...

In Brøns' hands, the iron ingots turned into docile clay, which was easily shaped.

The onlookers cheered, proud of the superb skills displayed by their fellow dwarves.

The situation wasn't as good for the artificial team as it was for the dwarves.

Mason's apprentice craftsmen, watching Bloom's miraculous skill, lost even their last shred of hope.

A height they could never reach in their entire lives.

"Swoosh—" With the final hammer blow, Bronn used pliers to pick up the red-hot dagger prototype and plunged it into the cold water.

White steam rose.

A sleek, cold-gleaming dagger took shape in his hand.

But it's not over yet.

Brown pulled a smaller carving knife from his waist and began to carve on the hilt of the dagger.

In the blink of an eye, the most basic dwarven "Sharpness" rune was completed.

He extended his thumb, gently smeared it on the rune, and activated it with a drop of his own blood.

"Buzz—" A faint white halo appeared on the blade of the dagger.

This is a combination of bloodline and skill, a realm that mortals can never reach.

Bron raised his dagger and, amidst a deafening cheer, walked toward the rock used to test hardness at the edge of the forge.

Just casually stick it in.

The dagger slid smoothly into the hard rock, almost halfway through.

The entire venue erupted in cheers!

The dwarves shouted Bronn's name and pounded the railings with their goblets and weapons, making a loud noise.

Embracing the adoration of his people, Bronn turned and gave Mason a disdainful look, as if he were a victor.

That look in his eyes seemed to say: Your turn, monkey.

Mason silently walked onto the forging table.

The laughter grew louder.

All the dwarfs were ready to see how he would make a fool of himself.

However, Mason's first move left them completely baffled.

Instead of touching the neatly stacked high-quality iron ingots, he went straight to the scrap pile in the corner of the forging yard.

There were some discarded gear parts, a few cracked pieces of wood, and even a torn animal hide piled up there.

Under the puzzled gazes of all the dwarves, Mason began rummaging through the pile of "junk".

Forging, or rather "assembly," has begun.

The furnace was lit, but the fire was poorly controlled, and the flames flickered on and off.

He used scrap iron that even dwarf apprentices disdained to use, and hammered and bent it into several strange supports.

"Haha, what is he doing? Making toys?"

"I don't think he knows anything about forging; he's just a tinkerer!"

Mason's actions were full of mistakes and superfluousness in the eyes of the dwarves, more chaotic than a child's scribbles, drawing bursts of laughter.

Mason seemed not to hear; only Master Baring's words echoed in his mind:

"Don't compete with them on hammers, compete on brains."

Time passed little by little.

Mason's forehead was covered in sweat as he secured the last piece of tattered animal hide to a wooden frame with several metal rods.

A strangely structured, ugly and crude-looking device appeared on the forging table.

The dwarves' laughter reached its peak.

Even the head apprentice stroked his beard, preparing to watch the farce unfold.

Mason completed his "work".

Without offering any explanation, he simply walked to the side of the ugly machine and grasped one of the longest wooden levers.

Under the watchful eyes of the entire audience, he slowly lowered the lever.

"Creak—"

Several gears clumsily meshed together, driving the connecting rod on the other side.

The two pieces of torn animal hide were stretched and compressed alternately.

next moment.

"Whoosh—!!" A strong and steady stream of air shot out from the simple wooden vent.

The strong wind whipped up the charcoal ash and sparks from the edge of the furnace, which poured straight into the furnace chamber!

The furnace fire was ignited.

The orange-red flames were compressed into a blinding bright white, and a terrifying heat wave swept over them, forcing several dwarf guards in the front row to instinctively take a step back.

The laughter abruptly stopped.

All the dwarves in the forge stared in astonishment at the crude machine cobbled together from scrap metal, and then at the frail mortal who effortlessly operated it with just one hand.

Even the strongest dwarf, using all his strength and pushing and pulling with both hands, could not create such a stable and powerful airflow!

The white-bearded dwarf master craftsmen in the front row suddenly stood up from their seats.

Their disdain turned to astonishment, bewilderment, and shock.

The apprentice's amused smile froze.

Looking at Mason and his work, then at the perfect dagger in his hand, Bloom's face showed a blank expression for the first time.

He won by skill.

But Mason's winning strategy was his approach.

These weak mortals, with their wisdom that seemed insignificant to the dwarves, easily achieved, and even surpassed, the innate bloodline and strength of the dwarves.

This is not just a victory for a tool.

This is the most thorough and ruthless subversion and blow to the dwarves' theory of innate talent, which has been held for tens of thousands of years.

High above the Iron Castle Palace, behind a window that remains closed year-round.

The dwarf king, seated on his throne and integrated into the city-state, stirred slightly the divine will of the God of Forging, which had been dormant for hundreds of years.

He sensed a strange fire of creation igniting at the outermost edge of the city-state.

The flame was very faint... and it carried a scent that he knew all too well.

That was the scent of his god, the god of forging, Lynch.

A glint of light flashed in the Dwarf King's deep eyes.

He let out a soft, meaningful "hmm".

"what?"