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Chapter 1367: The Essence of Advancement

The Project Nüwa meetings ran for several days and left Roland astonished at the professionals’ stamina and their capacity to sustain an argument.

From nine in the morning to seven at night, disputes and debates ran without interruption. When a difficult question resisted resolution, sessions pushed past midnight without complaint. These people arrived in pressed suits and formal attire, but once technical questions were on the table, none of them relented — and age offered no exceptions. Younger specialists shouted across the room; older ones with white hair and deliberate speech patterns outlasted them, their arguments sharpening rather than softening as the hours mounted. The intensity of some exchanges was indistinguishable from combat.

It confirmed something Roland had always suspected: the brain was an organ that grew stronger the more it was used.

In the Dream World he had his Awakened ability to sustain concentration, but waking up in reality meant feeling the full weight of the hours he’d spent. He had to extend his sleep to recover enough to keep pace with the meetings.

The atmosphere, it should be said, did not open warmly.

At first, there was little investment from most of the room, and the majority of resistance clustered around Roland’s foundational assertions — that humans killed by Fallen Evils would rise as a new enemy, that the Force of Nature and Blackfire violated scientific principles as anyone in the room understood them. No one openly called Roland a fraud while the Association and government were sponsoring the project, but their skepticism surfaced elsewhere: in prolonged silences, in questions shaped like traps, in the peculiar energy of people who had been asked to take something seriously that they considered ridiculous.

Roland nearly let the Taquila Witches handle it. He caught himself in time and signaled Ling to hold.

The conflict peaked on the first evening.

A master in mechanics stood up and said, bluntly, that there was no point continuing. A single day of decisions would take the martial artists weeks to process and understand. Better to end early. He would be doing everyone a favor.

Scroll had been silent all day. She was silent a moment longer, and then she put her hand flat on the table with a sound like the word no made physical.

The room became her stage.

What followed was not a summary. It was a reconstruction — complete and exact — of every discussion that had taken place from the meeting’s beginning: every proposal, every objection, every tangential argument and counter-argument, organized by topic and by speaker, with the contributions of every individual accounted for. The chief master who had tried to end the meeting found himself unable to speak. Around the table, specialists in their sixties and seventies sat with the expressions of students confronting a teacher they had not expected to encounter. Scroll’s ability was not merely an impressive trick. It was evidence — tangible, undeniable — that the possibilities she represented were real.

That, combined with her evident expertise and bearing, changed the remainder of the meetings.

Arguments still happened. But the questions shifted. They were no longer about whether the project was legitimate. They were about how to make it work.

With unlimited funding and manpower no longer obstacles, any disputed point was immediately forwarded to a research team for empirical testing. Theory could be argued indefinitely. Physical results were harder to dismiss.

For Roland, these were the most productive days he had ever spent in the Dream World.

President Wu directed their initial focus toward instrumentation.

“We have state-of-the-art material science and precision manufacturing capability,” he said, “but you’re using machines that are simple to the point of waste. Even without electronic control systems, machine-based automation can achieve precision and consistency that your current methods cannot. If you had mentioned this earlier, we would have refused to accept those defective products.”

Roland didn’t know whether to laugh. The “defective products” in question were the best his lifetime of work had produced. But he agreed with the President’s assessment completely.

Before electronics made everything else obsolete, pure mechanical engineering had reached a kind of perfection. Mechanical calculators. The difference engine — theoretical, never fully built, but the dream of it was breathtaking: layers of gears and interlocking shafts, a machine of pure logic. Looking at the schematics for such devices, one felt something that wasn’t quite aesthetic pleasure but was closely related. Then electronic technology arrived like a flood and swept every one of those elaborate mechanisms into obsolescence. You couldn’t find the design specifications for many of them in modern textbooks, because there was no longer any practical reason to preserve them.

Now he had a specialized team to improve his existing tools and recover that lost body of knowledge. He couldn’t have wished for more.

Better tools meant higher production efficiency with no increase in labor — which, for a kingdom with Neverwinter’s limited human resources, had enormous implications. The new Design Bureau’s contributions extended beyond machines: simpler mechanical calculators, typewriters, automatic printing presses — none of them requiring electronic components, but each capable of dramatically accelerating administrative work with only a few units deployed.

These were the foundations on which Project Nüwa would be built.

From the foundations, the scope expanded significantly.

The assembled specialists reached a shared conclusion: strengthening humanity’s combat capacity against Fallen Evil degeneration was the immediate priority. Nothing could be developed further without first having the ability to resist. Weapons, therefore, came first.

Rather than a single comprehensive proposal, the specialists organized their recommendations into three tiers — a quarterly plan, an annual plan, and a five-year plan.

Historical warfare in the Dream World offered useful answers for certain tactical problems, but the targeted population the planners had to account for — the number of survivors Neverwinter could realistically field — made traditional industrial models unworkable. The specialists leaned instead toward focused development: what specifically was needed to fight this specific enemy, and how could it be achieved with the available resources.

The goal, they determined, was achievable within three to twelve months.

The first item addressed — and the easiest immediate gain — was high-energy explosives and propellants.

This happened to be Neverwinter’s most significant technical deficit.

Nitro-compound synthesis could be approximated from chemistry references, but simpler modern explosives — TNT, RDX — had sparse documentation, and the formulation of advanced propellants almost none at all. With government backing, that gap was finally closed.

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