Exploring Technology in a Wizard World
Chapter 515 - 513: Another Piece of the Black Spirit Empire Puzzle

Chapter 515: Chapter 513: Another Piece of the Black Spirit Empire Puzzle

Sitting in his wheelchair, Lawrence was silent for a long while before he looked up at Richard and slowly said, "If you really want to know my secret, I might as well tell you.

Why do I know how to make clocks, firearms, and such? It’s simple, all because of my ancestors.

My ancestor was a craftsman in the Black Spirit Empire many years ago, working in a very famous workshop. Too much time has passed for me to know the specifics, but one thing is certain: after the fall of the Black Spirit Empire and his death, he left my family a wealth of books and drawings.

These books and drawings were almost unintelligible to my family, but my grandfather understood them, and then he taught my father, who, in turn, taught me.

After my father died, I devoted myself to study and made more than my father had taught me, which is what you see in this room."

"Is that so," Richard narrowed his eyes.

If what Lawrence was saying was true, then the Black Spirit Empire would have another piece added to its puzzle—not only did they possess exceptional biological knowledge (Island Treasure) and superior skills in Magic Material (recent research), but they also made extremely advanced mechanical creations.

The firearms produced by Lawrence were clearly generations behind those of the Black Spirit Empire, considering that all of this originated from Lawrence’s ancestor—a craftsman of the past. So, what level could the Black Spirit Empire’s pinnacle mechanical creations have reached?

Maxim Machine Guns? Heavy tanks?

Difference engines? Assembly line factories?

All these seemed not so astonishing, but what if you add the word "spell" to the mix?

The Black Spirit Empire was, after all, a Wizard Kingdom, and if mechanics were combined with spells, as well as with special Magic Material, it was hard to imagine the exaggerated creations that could be produced.

Richard took a deep breath.

At this moment, Lawrence looked over and said, "Alright, lad, I’ve told you my secret. Isn’t it about time you shared yours with me? Don’t try to wriggle out of it."

Richard looked at Lawrence and replied, "I won’t shirk, but my secret is actually somewhat similar to yours."

"Similar?" Lawrence inquired, "Do you mean to say that you know so much because of things left behind by your ancestors?"

"Pretty much, but the difference is, my ancestor wasn’t one person, but many—the knowledge passed down by countless people from my hometown lets me know so much."

"Where is your hometown?"

"A very distant little place; you probably haven’t heard of it. It’s called Earth."

"Earth?" Lawrence frowned upon hearing this, "Are you saying your hometown is a sphere or something?"

Richard, having anticipated such a reaction, calmly said, "’Earth’ is the word from my homeland; if we were to use the term from the East Coast here, it would be called ’Ez.’"

"’Ez’?" Lawrence nodded, "That sounds more like a place name, much better than some ’sphere’; still, I’ve never heard of it."

There was a pause before Lawrence looked at Richard again and said, "Tell me, why do I get the feeling that your secret isn’t true?"

"In truth, hearing your secret, Master Lawrence, I felt the same disbelief."

"So, neither of us can trust what the other says?"

"Apparently not, since this is our first meeting and the validity of secrets is beyond verification."

"Huh," Lawrence chuckled, then resumed a serious expression, looked over and said with a soft voice, "Since that’s the case, let’s leave it at that and not delve into each other’s so-called secrets anymore. It’s better for both of us."

"Indeed." Richard nodded, then bid farewell, "Master Lawrence, goodbye!" Without lingering, he picked up his suitcase and turned to leave.

"Goodbye." Lawrence uttered as he watched Richard depart, before sinking into silence as if deep in thought.

After pondering for a while, Lawrence turned to look at the two students standing in the room.

Muto and Rek immediately looked at Lawrence and asked respectfully, "Teacher, do you have any instructions?"

Lawrence spoke, his tone cold, "Both of you performed terribly just now, do you understand?"

"This—" Muto and Rek panicked and hastily said, "We’re sorry, teacher, we had no skills to stop that person from barging in. It’s our fault; please don’t be angry..."

"Enough, you don’t have to apologize." Lawrence waved them off, "You two may leave."

"Ah?!" Muto and Rek were startled, their eyes wide, "Teacher, are you sending us away? But we’ve been learning from you for several years now, and you’re not well; you need care. Moreover, someone seems to be investigating you, meaning you harm. If we leave..."

Lawrence closed his eyes, then after a while, opened them and looked at Muto and Rek, saying just one word, allowing no refusal, "Leave!"

Muto and Rek shuddered, shut their mouths, exchanged a glance, and headed towards the door with bowed heads, dispirited like defeated roosters or dogs that had been kicked out of the house.

Lawrence watched Muto and Rek leave, then slowly took out a silver-white revolver, vigorously wiped it with a white handkerchief, and tucked it into his chest, murmuring with downturned brows, "Don’t blame me, this is for your own good, for your own good.

After all, you couldn’t handle even a wizard visitor without malice. Trying to deal with those evil wizards with malevolent intentions would only lead to your deaths, to your deaths!"

...

In the blink of an eye, several days later.

Somewhere on the East Coast.

A massive hall, built deep underground.

At the moment, there were many people in the hall, working at tables, sorting through various documents, so busy they seemed to have no time even to drink water, sweating profusely from their foreheads whether from the heat or urgency.

At that moment, clear footsteps came from outside the hall, echoing in everyone’s hearts.

"Tap! Tap! Tap!"

With a "creak", the door to the hall opened, and a woman walked in.

The woman had pale skin and fiery red lips, with eight of her ten fingernails painted black like sharp blades. She wore a purple robe and exuded a bitter and poisonous aura that was chilling to the bone.

Her name was Muse, the master of this place, though most people referred to her as... the Steward.

"Tap tap tap..."

Muse walked into the hall, and all the people inside dared not raise their heads or even breathe too loudly. Those who had tasks focused on their work, and those without found things to do, not daring a moment’s idleness for fear of catching her eye.

Muse, satisfied, nodded her head and strode to the deepest part of the hall where she sat down behind a large black walnut desk in a comfortable, plush chair, lazily stretching as if she had just woken from a nap.