“Finally, dwarves have come?”
Torin excitedly grabbed the hem of the Lizardman Baroque’s clothes at his waist and asked again.
After receiving Baroque’s affirmative nod, he stomped his foot in excitement: “Finally waited for them! Calculating by the time the letters were delivered, they indeed should have arrived. Or rather, why did they only arrive now! By the way, where are they?”
Hearing Baroque report the location, Torin turned around and rushed out without leaving a single extra sentence.
He had been burying his head alone researching those complex war golem structures. The progress was as slow as crawling; he was driven crazy long ago and urgently needed knowledgeable helpers.
However, when he rushed into the cafeteria attached to the newly built hot spring bath center and saw those two dwarves sitting at the long table at first glance, his footsteps slammed to a halt.
They were two unfamiliar faces.
The targets he sent letters to were those master blacksmiths or magic golem experts he knew in the Deepforge Clan in the past.
After all, to work on something profound like war golems, ordinary blacksmiths weren’t qualified.
The two dwarves before him were not only unfamiliar but also too young. No matter how he looked at them, they didn’t look like they possessed unique skills.
Regardless, Torin still walked up harboring doubts.
And at this moment, Jadin and Pollock were still in a state of being out of their wits. They just mechanically stuffed food into their mouths, completely unresponsive to everything around them.
The impact of everything that happened before was too strong for them.
Facing the encirclement of Puchis, two dwarf blacksmiths who weren’t even professional combat personnel naturally couldn’t be opponents.
The Puchis’ tentacles whipped them like spinning tops, finally tying them up tightly, unable to move.
On the contrary, the human Joel, whom they always thought needed care, suddenly expanded his hands into giant claws covered in keratin, cutting off the mycelium winding toward him.
However, it was also futile. The Puchis stabbed him half to death in a few moves, dragged him away, leaving a bright red trail on the snow.
Subsequently, the two dumbfounded dwarves were brought here, soaked in a hot spring, and ate a big meal.
Joel… no, that guy disguised as a human slave, was actually a shapeshifter!
Jadin and Pollock’s brains were blank.
They had heard stories of spies, but those were distant things in tavern rumors or frontline war reports.
When a conspiracy really happened beside them, and they even became part of it, that dizziness of cognition being overturned almost made them unable to think.
Thinking back now, indeed everywhere revealed unreasonableness.
An escaped slave encountered by chance in the vast snowy plains carrying only a heating stone, an overly talkative personality, being vague about certain details…
But in that environment of isolation and helplessness, and natural trust toward “fellow sufferers,” they actually didn’t have the slightest suspicion.
Yet these people in the Puchi Fortress looked like they knew long ago; it was truly too incredible.
A Puchi waiter came over with “puchi puchi” sounds and took away the empty dinner plates in front of them. The light sound of metal collision made the two dwarves snap back to reality, only to discover that a clansman had been sitting opposite them for some time.
Seeing Torin, the two were stunned at first, then uncontrollable surprise erupted on their faces.
Although they had accepted the fact that in this legendary “Blacksmith’s Paradise,” the residents were mostly Puchis and demons, plus a small number of humans.
But being able to see another dwarf compatriot with a big beard here was undoubtedly the most effective comfort for them.
Pollock reached out hesitantly and pinched Torin’s arm.
Torin jerked his arm back, his brows knitting into a ball: “What are you doing?”
He didn’t remember where dwarves had this habit of greeting.
“I… I just wanted to confirm,” Pollock withdrew his hand, “afraid you were also transformed by some shapeshifter…”
“What nonsense!” Torin found it somewhat funny. “Leaving aside that the Puchi Fortress doesn’t have shapeshifters, even if I were, if a shapeshifter could be exposed just by you pinching twice, what kind of natural disguiser would that be?”
Pollock sat back in his seat sheepishly and scratched his head.
The three dwarves gathered together, talking one after another, and soon clarified each other’s sequence of events.
Differently, Jadin and Pollock’s eyes grew brighter as they listened, and by the end, they were so excited they almost emitted fire.
Torin told them that the Puchi Fortress indeed stockpiled massive amounts of mined raw ore. Although the quality was uneven, the quantity was so large that even with continuously building warehouses, they were almost running out of space to pile it.
And these ores, Torin paused and looked at the two clansmen: “As long as you have the skill, high probability… you can use them all.”
This sentence was like a hammer striking a red-hot iron ingot, sparks flying everywhere.
The Puchi didn’t lie to them.
Thinking of the hope they pursued north by giving up living a comfortable and stable life in Furnace Ash City with that money, thinking of the fear and trepidation along the way, and finally even getting along with a dangerous shapeshifter for half a month.
All the efforts paid could truly be exchanged for returns; how could this not make them happy to the point of tears?
But Torin wasn’t that happy.
He was naturally happy that clansmen came to the Puchi Fortress, but the two dwarves were recruited by Puchis to forge iron and had not a dime’s worth of relation to the letters he sent out.
And since his letters had been sent out for so long and no one came, there was a high probability no one would come.
Then what about the war golem research?
For a moment, Torin leaned back in his chair somewhat dejectedly.
After resting well for a whole day, Starfire took the two dwarves to visit the forging area that would belong to them in the future.
When that heavy metal door slid open to both sides, Jadin and Pollock stood dumbfounded at the entrance.
That wasn’t a blacksmith shop; that was a factory.
Under the towering dome, dozens of furnaces of varying sizes were arranged neatly; the largest one was simply like a small hill.
Crisscrossing gear tracks and crane arms were erected in the air. The ground was paved with fire-resistant dark stone, marking out clear material zones, forging zones, quenching zones, and finished product zones.
Even the most prestigious master workshop in Furnace Ash City appeared like a child’s play corner compared to this magnificent, rigorous space born for large-scale production before their eyes.
And the moment the attached warehouse was opened, the two dwarves’ breathing stopped completely.
Layers upon layers of crates, stacked from the ground to near the ceiling, densely packed, stretching beyond sight.
Pollock’s Adam’s apple rolled, swallowing dryly, his voice trembling: “These… are all for… us?”
“Accurately speaking, it’s for the shared use of all blacksmiths who come to the Puchi Fortress and are willing to work here.” Starfire corrected calmly, his gaze sweeping over the two dwarves’ faces full of shock. “However, currently, you are indeed the first batch. As long as you comply with safety regulations and don’t cause accidents, you can take and use at will.”
The two dwarves nodded vigorously, the frequency as fast as woodpeckers. There was not a trace of disappointment on their faces, only dizziness and ecstasy after being hit by a huge pie.
Such a large forging factory was enough to accommodate over a thousand craftsmen working simultaneously!
It was only reasonable for all blacksmiths to share resources!
Just as the two dwarves were eager to try, Starfire smiled and pushed a contract in front of them.
“This is…”
“The Puchi Fortress is willing to provide the venue, supply ores, and assist you in growing into true master blacksmiths.” Starfire’s voice was gentle and clear. “Of course, we also harbor sincere expectations, hoping to ultimately achieve a cooperation of mutual achievement.”
There was no free lunch in the world; dwarves understood this principle too.
Jadin nodded and took the contract.
Written on it were clauses regarding overdrafting contribution points to exchange for ores, and repaying later by converting qualified finished forged products.
After carefully inquiring about the exchange ratio between contribution points and various ores, the two dwarves calculated quickly in their hearts. The conditions weren’t harsh; at least far more hopeful than being apprentices to official blacksmiths in Furnace Ash City, dealing with scraps all day long.
The only issue was that they needed to accept mycelium symbiosis.
Starfire calmly rolled up his sleeve, revealing his arm. Between the winding magical patterns on the skin, fine milky-white mycelium was faintly visible.
“Nothing to be doubtful about. Everyone in the Puchi Fortress lives in symbiosis with mycelium. Mycelium not only facilitates communication but also provides cold resistance, so you two won’t have to wear constant-temperature pendants all the time.”
The two dwarves looked at each other and finally nodded.
In Furnace Ash City, they had also seen quite a few humans living in symbiosis with Puchis. Although they hadn’t heard of the cold-resisting effect, they figured it was just their own lack of knowledge.
“Um… there’s one last question.” Pollock raised his hand, his tone somewhat hesitant.
“Please speak.”
“Um, I declare first, I’m just curious, absolutely don’t have that kind of intention, please don’t misunderstand.”
Starfire smiled and made a “please” gesture.
Only then did Pollock continue: “This contract… is just written on ordinary paper. Is it really okay? Doesn’t it need a magic contract attached with mandatory effectiveness? After all, we will consume quite a lot of ores. If… I mean if, a blacksmith learns the skills and then reneges on the debt and runs away?”
“Ah, you are worried about the issue of contract fulfillment.” Starfire’s smile deepened slightly. “No need to worry for the Puchi Fortress. We are willing to trust you two, and also trust the character and honor of true dwarf blacksmiths. We believe that exchanging sincerity for sincerity can forge a better future for each other and for this city.”
“Lord Starfire…” Pollock’s eyes felt hot, a scorching current surging in his chest. “Of course, we are true dwarves! I swear by my beard, I will never fail this trust!”
Having said that, he grabbed the pen and signed his name forcefully on the contract. Jadin followed closely behind.
Subsequently, under the guidance of Starfire’s assistant, the two went to undergo the supposedly painless symbiosis ritual.
Watching their backs disappear around the corridor corner, the gentle smile on Starfire’s face remained unchanged.
Only, on the Yellow Codex he had been holding in his hands, several lines of writing emerged.
[Starfire, oh, you are getting more and more skilled at speaking these pretty words!] [How could we be worried? In the Puchi Fortress, is there anyone who can renege on the Boss’s debt?] [Let them ask those D-Classes; is there always a way to pay back what is owed? Hahahahaha!]
(End of Chapter)
