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Chapter 658: Dreams and Steel

As the liquid iron churned inside the converter, the oxidation ran its sequence: silicon burning first, then manganese, then the long arc of carbon. At nearly 1,500 degrees the carbon reacted with the oxygen in the air blast, producing carbon monoxide and enormous heat, the melt boiling as the gas forced upward and out. The flames at the converter mouth rose and wrapped around the pipe and the grate — precisely why Roland had insisted on the heat-resistant coating. The carbon monoxide hit the open air and ignited, a secondary combustion that made the furnace look like something had set the top of it on fire. The sound of gas expansion buried the steam engine completely. The officials, almost in unison, stepped back.

Roland remained where he stood.

He kept his hands behind his back and his face into the hot wind, watching the white-orange mouth. A pity about the oxygen, he thought. Pure oxygen injection would make the flames brighter and the process faster — but oxygen separation required equipment he hadn’t built, and wouldn’t build for some time. The current process would do.

As the carbon burned out, phosphorus and sulfur oxidized last, combining with the limestone charge to become furnace slag. The flames declined. He told the foreman to tilt: the converter pivoted on its trunnions and liquid steel poured from the tap hole in a bright stream, flowing down into the steel ladle waiting below. The slag, lighter, remained floating in the vessel’s mouth; he had them arrest the pour while steel still remained, rather than let the slag contaminate the ladle. The remnant would be collected and recycled.

A modern mill would use a slag-stopping ball, a slag-stopping spear, infrared sensors. Neverwinter had none of those. He’d compensated with simplicity: stop early, waste a little, keep the ladle clean. Productivity efficiency wasn’t the priority yet. Quality was.

Last step: a bucket of Lucia’s refined aluminum into the liquid steel, absorbing the dissolved oxygen into aluminum oxide slag, which floated and could be skimmed. The steel was done.

The molds filled. The bright stream solidified from the edges inward, color deepening as it cooled.

Not a sound from the officials.

They were understanding it in sequence. The Star of Steel required Anna and Lucia — two women who were unique in the world, whose abilities could not be taught or transferred. This converter required workers who could be trained, a pipe that could be fabricated, a steam engine that could be replicated. Every official in this yard could see the difference, and what the difference meant: that the bottleneck was gone. Steel was no longer rationed by what the witches could produce in a given day.

They could build more converters. Train more workers. Mine more iron. Scale.

Roland let the understanding work through them without commentary. He felt the heat on his face and felt, beyond it, the satisfaction of a problem he had turned over carefully and solved correctly. Coal-and-iron compound manufacturing now existed in Neverwinter as a complete chain — mining, ironmaking, steelmaking, casting — performed by ordinary labor. With the population growing and the school expanding, he could hear, almost literally, the pace of it accelerating.

He’d have Lucia test this first batch for carbon and impurity content. Her readings would tell him how to adjust the air-blowing time and refine the slag-removal process. The figures from this run were the foundation for every run that followed.


That evening he went to bed early.

He had decided, over dinner, that the library was where he needed to go next in the Dream World — the school library, specifically, the one he’d spent significant time in as a student. He needed mechanical design references. Neverwinter’s new steel capacity meant the bottleneck would shift to processing: the machine tools he’d built for early-stage work were insufficient for the precision required by Longsong Cannons, heavy machine guns, grenade fuses. He needed to find, in the deep memory of that world, the professional texts on manufacturing and machining that might close that gap.

Travel in the Dream World couldn’t substitute for sleep; the first day in that world was always tiring. No afternoon nap possible in a hot apartment without air conditioning. He needed full rest before attempting it.

He surfaced in the Dream World to a clear summer morning, the kind that would be oppressive by noon. He checked the phone on the bedside table.

A dozen missed calls, all from secondhand goods dealers. A stack of text messages.

Hey, bro, do you have more armors? Friend wants some for a film. Call me.

700 yuan per piece this time — good deal.

Sword price up 200 too. Don’t sharpen the blades though, that’s scary.

If you’re not happy with the prices we can talk.

Come on, answer me.

The last message was from his bank: remaining balance 3,600 yuan, including 1,500 remitted from Zero’s parents as her living expenses.

He deleted the messages, pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, and walked out to the lane. Zero was still asleep.

A small rice noodle restaurant occupied the lower floor of the lane’s corner building. He settled in.

“Big bowl with shredded meat, please.”

“Yes!”

He looked at the apartment building across the lane while he waited. He’d visited the secondhand bookstore and the Internet café on this same street several times; he’d spent most of his time in the Dream World working — earning money, memorizing books — and had never simply sat and observed the building and the people in it. He did so now.

The bowl arrived steaming, rice noodles tangled in rich broth. He ate slowly, watching.

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