Chapter 97 Chapter 96 Stubborn Dwarf
The dwarf engineer, Little Short Legs, walked along the uneven road in silence, his face like a statue in a tomb.
Jima flapped her wings, waiting for his answer.
The sound of the miners’ lamps colliding with their breastplates echoed in the dark underground cave. After an unknown amount of time, the dwarf engineer finally asked:
“Relying on an unstable weapon that’s not even fifty years old?”
“It is unstable.” Jima thought of the explosive detonations, “and it poses a life-threatening danger to the user.”
The dwarf engineer asked, “Did you come to mock me? Demon.”
“What kind of weapon do you think can be used?”
“According to guild standards, at least within fifty years, there should be no quality issues.” The dwarf engineer said: “Only then is it barely a qualified weapon.”
“What if that weapon has twenty times the firepower of the arquebus in your hand? Just think, once loaded, it can fire two shots in a second!”
“That would definitely be the worst weapon. Long-term high-intensity operation would be too much for its mechanical structure; it would certainly jam, misfire, or even explode.” The dwarf engineer said without hesitation: “A weapon designed to injure its holder is a shame for an engineer.”
“You’re not wrong. I found a weapon that is powerful yet neglects safety.” Jima said: “So I want to ask you to help improve it.”
“I won’t touch such a junk weapon.” The dwarf engineer shook his head: “It tarnishes my honor.”
“Your honor?” Jima scoffed: “Rest assured, your research results will not harm anyone because only you will handle the weapon. Just like a traditional butcher, to wash away his shame, wielding an axe, he charges into the enemy’s ranks while honing his skills to achieve a glorious death.
“And you, too, must continuously hone your memory, transform a good weapon, then take it up in hand, risking the new weapon exploding, to slaughter your enemies.”
The dwarf engineer did not respond; his expression remained like a statue in a tomb.
Jima continued: “I can offer you many similar high-power weapons, and I can provide you with a workshop where you can get started immediately at night. Will you consider it?”
Dwarves are stubborn and conservative. They despise new things because new things are synonymous with unreliability; only after testing new things repeatedly for hundreds of years will they grudgingly use them.
Thus, after discovering the gunpowder coming from Sylis, the history of gun development is quite different from Earth. Earthlings, upon discovering the power of gunpowder, immediately employed it in warfare, creating a variety of firearms that gradually evolved into matchlocks.
The dwarf engineer had been tinkering behind closed doors, improving the matchlock for an unknown length of time before finally taking it out for testing.
Jima wasn’t sure if she could convince the dwarf.
The lips of the dwarf engineer moved slightly, like a crack opening in stone, and he said: “I will think about it.”
The group had been traveling underground for a day.
The ground beneath them shifted from uneven stone roads to gradually smooth stone slabs, finally becoming solid stone pavement. They arrived at the “Underground Avenue,” where the cut quartzite stones fit together tightly, paving a level roadway.
This was the handiwork of ancient dwarves. The avenue was built in an underground cave so vast it was hard to believe; Jima estimated its width to be at least a kilometer, enough for two armies to form up.
The avenue was not dark; there were lava flows on either side, the flames barely illuminating this ancient “Underground Avenue.” Looking up, one could see the rock profile towering two hundred meters high. For humans and elves, accustomed to surface life, it was difficult to adapt; a sense of oppression lingered in their hearts.
There was always a feeling of collapse, a sense of nowhere to escape.
The bard Felix lay on a stretcher, having collapsed after marching without rest for half a day; he had injured his foot. Seeing the rocks overhead, he gritted his teeth and turned over.
The dwarves endured such high-intensity marching; although they walked slowly, they ate while walking and did not rest.
Jima couldn’t help but recall the ancient War of the Long Beards, where short-legged dwarves faced elves, relying on their little short legs to march tirelessly for days to seize all easily defensible positions, thereby cutting off the elves’ supply lines and gaining strategic initiative.
But the dwarves’ glory had already come to an end; Eve Frostleaf was right; dwarves are a twilight race.
She flew above, watching the seven dwarves march along the avenue built by their ancestors. The avenue was wide, and the seven dwarves looked as small as ants.
Once, it supported tens of thousands of dwarf troops and endless underground merchant caravans, but now it housed only seven dwarves.
This small team passed by a damaged gate, with dwarf faces carved on it; now, the faces were missing more than half, making it hard to identify them as dwarf features. The adjacent dwarf statue had also lost half its body.
A heavy stone door had collapsed, and beside the gate stood a tattered flag, featuring three green lines forming a triangle—this was the flag of the ratmen. Under the flag hung several dwarf helmets, their laces made from dwarf beards.
Indicating that they had entered a place where ratmen could emerge.
Jima thought of knocking down the flag but hesitated, fearing there might be a trap. At that moment, a crossbow bolt flew in, striking down the flag; the area below it exploded, the blast shattering the silence and resounding through the enormous underground passage, faint echoes could be heard.
The dwarf engineer lowered his steel crossbow, his face still sour with anger.
Jima flew over, and he looked at her and said: “I agree with your proposal, demon.”
“I’m glad you agreed.” Jima said: “But before that, I think we should prepare for the approaching ratmen.”
The echoes of the explosion faded away, and listening carefully, it seemed one could hear thousands of ratmen racing in the distance.
Jima did not blame the dwarf engineer for exposing their team’s movements. No dwarf could withstand such humiliation; it could only be said that the ratmen had set a trap that was good enough, and since the other side did such a good job, it was only natural for teammates to fall into the trap.
“Stop!” George pointed nearby: “Occupy the high ground, back against the wall, take cover, Jima, scout up in the air!”
“Okay.”
Jima flapped her wings, flying higher, then hovering in place, entering a state of invisibility.
She saw, amidst the clusters of mushrooms and countless rocks, a few figures, but besides that, no signs of a ratman army were found.
Jima was not overly worried, as Eve Frostleaf, acting as a scout ahead, had not issued any warnings, so it was very likely nothing was amiss. It could be that the ratman patrol team merely spotted their tracks.
However, walking on the avenue would eventually expose them, unless they could kill all the ratmen in front.
Before long, a silver shadow raced in from the avenue, as swift as a steed; Eve Frostleaf leaped to the high ground and spoke with George. Twenty minutes later, a green light flared in George’s hand.
Jima descended from the air, and George said: “Frostleaf only encountered a small patrol; she killed some ratmen who came to scout. She also discovered that about two kilometers ahead, there is a ratman army.”
“What’s your decision?”
“Stealthily approach.”
“Stealth?” Jima glanced at the seven heavily armored dwarves with broken legs beside her.
“We’ll first find a weak point and try to sneak through to a favorable starting point.” George said: “Then we run at full speed, slaughtering as we go, before the enemy realizes what’s happening and crossing the dangerous zone.”
“How is that different from just charging in?”
“Reducing exposure time makes it hard for the enemy to assess our strength.” George said: “Jima, I need you to serve as the scout to survey the terrain. After we charge through, we’ll find a safe cave to burrow into.”
Jima thought for a moment and agreed.
