A Hospital in Another World?

The barrier Garrett thought insurmountable became surprisingly easy to overcome with Prince Rothgar’s involvement.

Somehow, word got around, and by the time Garrett realized what was happening, a large group of dwarves were clamoring and lining up outside the forge:

"I was here first!"

"Let me go first!"

"Let me have a try too!"

Garrett had to quickly create a bunch of forms. He wrote one, then duplicated it with a 【Copying Spell】, doubling it again and again... Thankfully, his spacious bag, filled with an assortment of items for daily use, ensured he wouldn’t run out of materials.

After casting the spell several times in succession, he had a thick stack of data sheets. Soon enough, Garrett was sitting at a table with all the seriousness of a medical examiner:

"...Name?"

"Bonun Firehammer."

"121 years old."

"Occupation?"

"Patrol team member."

"What level warrior?"

"Level four."

"Do you smoke?"

"Of course, I do!"

"At what age did you start mining? At what age did you start forging? At what age did you join the patrol team?"

"I started learning mining at 62... started forging at 81... just joined the patrol team last year..."

Good, that’s 60 years of exposure to dust. Garrett did a quick mental calculation, internally commenting on the dwarves’ incredibly resilient constitutions — such conditions could lead to stage II pneumoconiosis in humans, even without considering the length of dust exposure, just based on age.

While silently critiquing, he forced a smile and cast a 【Detection Spell】, glancing over. Behind Bonun, a barbarian was holding his 【Endless Ink Pen】, standing solemnly like a backdrop. Magical light shone through the dwarf’s back, highlighting small, somewhat subtle, but undeniable shadows in his lungs.

Tsk, 60 years of dust exposure and indeed there are some shadows in the lungs. Garrett made a note on the form, took an alcohol swab from a bottle, cleaned the top of the glass funnel, and handed it to Bonun:

"Blow into this..."

One person per minute, 60 in an hour. After three hours straight, Garrett was so tired he couldn’t even muster the energy to move — but his work wasn’t done yet. He still had to organize the data by age, gender, duration of dust exposure, and combat level...

"Ah—why is there no Tower Spirit to help sort this out—"

He missed the Tower Spirits from the Tower of Heaven! Just place the papers underneath, and decades of data could be entered, organized, and calculated in seconds! Fast, accurate, with quality assurance, Tower Spirit-made guaranteed quality!

"Wake up, that’s impossible." Mage Simond floated by, casually dropping a critique:

"A floating Mage Tower that can move, not even a level 15 mage has one. Wanting a Tower Spirit to follow you wherever you go, you’d have to advance to legendary status!"

Garrett’s head thumped onto the desk.

Thump as he might, the work still needed to be done. The generator whirled, the electrolysis cell bubbled, and the furnace’s white fire soared. With technological power at their side, smelting iron ore proceeded at an unusually fast pace, far outpacing other teams.

This achievement, like a towering flag, drew endless streams of dwarves to observe.

And Garrett was there at the door, lying in wait... no, standing by the furnace waiting for dwarves. He’d pull in anyone he saw:

"Have you tried this? Come on, give it a blow, see who has the strongest breath! Currently, the record is held by Rezel of the Steelhammer clan, 6500 milliliters, unbeaten!"

"Come on, come on!"

Another eager dwarf jumped forward.

First, it was the Firehammer clan, then the Steelhammer clan, followed by dwarves who usually lived outside the royal court and only came during the king’s selection period, flocking to participate. Prince Rothgar welcomed them all, busied himself with his work, and let them look around freely.

Soon, Garrett spotted members of the Steelhammer clan, the Silverbeard clan, and even the Blackrock clan among the onlookers.

—Yes, that priest from the Radiant Church!

Garrett subtly signaled with his eyes. Bernard turned and entered the forge, dragging a wooden box and sitting on it.

The black-robed priest seemed not to notice his gesture. He moved through the queue of dwarves, from the steam engine to the spinning coils, to the continuously bubbling electrolysis cell, and finally marveling at the steady white fire. After making his round, he quietly left without taking any notes on the spot.

Garrett pretended not to see. He continued to enthusiastically call out to the dwarves:

"Come and blow into it! Try to break the record!"

As soon as the people from the Blackrock clan left the forge, Archmage Serrano emerged. This high-ranking mage casually flicked his fingers, erecting a soundproof barrier, and immediately pulled Garrett aside:

"Are you really letting them see everything?"

—The secret! The big secret! A potentially groundbreaking secret that could significantly improve smelting efficiency!

Letting people from the Radiant Church look freely?

"No problem," Garrett replied with a smile. He led the archmage into the forge, pointing to the wooden box beneath Bernard:

"The secret’s right here!"

The blue glow emitted by the mercury arc rectifier was completely concealed by the wooden box.

The secret of the steam engine wouldn’t be hidden for long. Once widely adopted among the dwarf clans, it was only a matter of time before it reached the Radiant Church. However, the precision engineering of the steam engine, the sealing gaskets, and subsequent applications were what the council needed to keep in their hands.

As for the oxygen smelting process—

A joke. Without converting AC to DC, and by directly running AC through water, they wouldn’t be able to achieve anything for a lifetime!

Moreover, even if they knew they needed to run DC, did they know what liquid to electrolyze? Did they know that sodium hydroxide needed to be added to the water before electrolyzing it? Did they know one outlet would produce pure oxygen and the other hydrogen, and that the hydrogen had to be carefully vented to prevent explosions?

Archmage Serrano couldn’t help but laugh. He pointed a playful finger at Garrett a few times before turning to leave. Garrett shrugged at his departing figure and returned to the entrance of the forge, raising his smile again:

"Anyone else who hasn’t tried? Come on over and challenge the record!"

For the entire day, everyone worked diligently. The ores brought back by the team had all been smelted into iron blocks, enough to forge two sets of full-body armor—plus two dwarf battle axes and two war hammers.

Early the next morning, Ginna dismantled the generator and the electrolysis cell, reconnecting the forging hammer to the steam engine. Meanwhile, Garrett, with the tests and records he had frantically organized overnight, went to find Prince Rothgar.

"The results of the widespread testing. Among dwarves of the same combat level, those with less than 40 years of dust exposure—that is, engaged in mining, smelting, forging, frequently in contact with mineral dust and smoke—have an average lung capacity more than 10% higher than those with more than 60 years of exposure."

Moreover, among those with over 60 years of dust exposure, a significantly higher proportion had shadows in their lungs. Clearly, even if they hadn’t developed stage I pneumoconiosis, long-term work related to mining had damaged their lung function.

Garrett’s expression was grave. Prince Rothgar straightened up, "So, what do we do?"

"If Kai has been mostly on the move in the wilderness, seldom engaged in mining or forging, his lung capacity—that is, his breath—could be over 10% higher than yours. In combat, this could be a significant disadvantage."

Garrett leaned forward slightly, the table before him crisscrossed with rows of data. Prince Rothgar, tiptoeing, glanced over Garrett’s hand for a while, then furrowed his brows:

"Then, what should we do?"

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