Let go of that monster girl!

Page 5

They shoveled copper powder and charcoal scraps into the furnace, while several small mice hopped on the bellows to blow air into the furnace.

The flames changed from orange-red to orange-yellow, and then from orange-yellow to incandescent white.

The rat women, dressed in fireproof suits that resembled cans, chanted slogans as they used chains from the top of the workshop to lift the furnace, pouring molten copper into stone molds to cool into copper rods.

More rat girls were operating the wire drawing board to make copper wire. Their skills on the wire drawing board were much better than on the anvil. They drilled more than a dozen holes of varying sizes on a palm-sized iron plate.

The rat girls filed one end of the copper rod thin, threaded it through the first hole, clamped it with pliers, and then lined up to pull it backward with all their might.

The copper rod squeezed through the hole, becoming thinner and longer, and then through the second hole, the third hole, getting thinner and longer with each pull.

This was a very strenuous task, and the mouse girls were soon exhausted and slumped over. The mouse girls who had just rested immediately took over the work.

Some young mouse eggs were chasing and playing around outside the workshop. Two mouse girls were pushing a wheelbarrow and neither was willing to give way. The wheelbarrow crashed into a pile of ore, but luckily Lym reached out and caught it in time.

Molen stood in the middle of the construction site, holding a rolled-up whip, looking more like a slave owner than ever before.

"Put your hats on! Don't get too close to the stove! Those over there have rested enough, hurry up and get back to work."

The rat girl, who had been yelled at, stuck out her tongue and put her miner's hat on.

The mouse girls dressed as maids pushed carts through the construction site, carrying water jugs, mushroom cakes with berry syrup, and mushroom soup made with giant mouse milk.

These are delicacies that are hard to come by normally, and it's clear that the arrival of the caravan gave the cooks a lot of room to showcase their skills.

The rat girls took turns coming to collect their meals, gulping them down in a few mouthfuls before collapsing into a pile by the workshop.

Looking at the busy mouse girl, Moren sighed to the heavens.

Money, fuel, food, all cost money, and we're struggling to make ends meet.

Aside from the glowstone lantern, anything that glows in the dark zone is incredibly expensive; otherwise, the workshop wouldn't be idle all the time. If this gamble doesn't work, he'll go bankrupt before the fox girl can squeeze Morren dry.

Several mouse girls were wiping the cooled axle, while another group of mouse girls were laboriously dragging copper wires. The foreman mouse girl came up and asked:

"Your Excellency, how do you wind that coil you mentioned?"

"Bring me the blueprint." Morren bent down and pointed to the markings on it. "Don't be lazy and skip the number of turns; the number of turns is the voltage."

The mouse girl nodded and dragged the coil back.

Busy times always pass quickly, and a few days soon passed. The mouse girls pushed each other's butts and used a cart to squeeze the rotor, which was about the same height as them, between the two magnetic crystals.

Molen felt a gentle tug on the hem of his clothes.

"Owner……"

Molen turned around and saw that Lyme was hugging the patchwork bag tightly and shyly tugging at his clothes.

Ok?

Want it?

Am I really that good at this?

Speaking of which, I've been watching the mouse girls spin coils in the workshop these past few days, and it seems like it's been a while since I've squeezed any lime.

Considering the need to manufacture batteries and expand production in the future, the demand for the slime is considerable, so it is indeed necessary to produce it several times.

But after commanding the mouse girls for the past few days, Molen was too exhausted. He sighed and was about to refuse.

"Everyone is very capable."

Lym clutched the patchwork bag, her gaze shifting from Moren's face to the ground, and then from the ground to the mouse girls.

Then he looked away, met Morren's gaze, and quickly looked to the side.

“Lyme also wants to help more.” Her voice was softer than usual.

Moren looked at the slime girl, who rarely spoke up, rubbed his dark circles, and joked:

"There is indeed a favor here that only you can do."

As he spoke, Morren reached out and took the patchwork bag from Lyme's arms, shaking it a few times to spread the fabric out.

He then used the patchwork pocket as a blanket and rested his head on Lyme.

"Slime girl is really soft."

Cool and soft, it steadily supported Morren's head. He stretched his arms and crossed his hands in front of him.

"I'll rest for a while. Call me when the rotor is assembled."

"Ah... okay."

The sudden appearance of his master caught Lyme off guard; Moren's body was warm, just like the warmth of his own hands.

She shifted her body slightly, trying to find a more comfortable angle for Morren, but she was afraid of disturbing his rest.

When he heard even breathing in her arms, Lyme's expression softened again.

She carefully reached out her hand, her fingertips hesitated for a moment, and then gently placed it on Morren's hair.

Chapter 7 Windmill

The huge windmill blades swayed in mid-air, with a dozen thick hemp ropes hanging down from the blade frame, the other end held in the hands of the mouse girls.

"One, two, three, pull!"

The experienced carpenter mouse stood on the roof of the mill and shouted work songs.

The mouse girls below responded in unison, the rope tightened, the pulley creaked, and the windmill blades, as tall as ten mouse girls, slowly climbed to the top of the abandoned mill.

Molen leaned against the low wall next to the windmill, a honey biscuit dangling from his mouth.

To be honest, the scene was much more spectacular than he had imagined.

The mill windmill was too large to be assembled piece by piece; the entire frame had to be assembled on the ground before being hoisted up.

The windmill blades were pieced together with wooden strips to form a frame, and the mouse girls sewed all sorts of scraps of cloth onto it, including burlap sacks, old aprons, and anything else that could be disassembled.

Patches upon patches, yet the original outline can still be vaguely discerned.

He noticed that in the most conspicuous position, a piece of cloth with a bear pattern was sewn on, which was particularly eye-catching.

Molen almost choked on the biscuit.

Okay, pragmatism comes first.

The carpenter mice tapped left and right on the roof to make sure the installation was secure, and then loosened the ropes binding the sails one by one, causing the blades to swell in the mountain wind.

The windmill creaks and groans, and the mouse squeaks and squeaks.

The old wooden axle turned very stiffly at first, but then it gradually increased in speed.

"The windmill is huge!"

"It's spinning! It's spinning! It's spinning!"

"Squeak!"

The mouse girls cheered and jumped around, and Morren clapped along with them.

On the small wooden table beside him was a plate of snacks. The caravan had brought many good things after they stopped there, and the cook had taken the time to bake several delicate snacks, including honey crisps. All of them suited Moren's taste and were indeed quite delicious.

Just as Morren picked up the second honey biscuit, before he even touched it to his mouth, a group of furry little mouse ears surrounded him out of the corner of his eye.

Molen pushed the plate toward the mouse.

The mice giggled and ran off with the whole plate of snacks.

"Hey."

Forget it.

I'm in a good mood today, so I won't dwell on it.

He held the last piece of crispy biscuit, glancing to his side.

Lyme stood next to him, his bangs covering most of his face, the little bit of expression he showed was him staring blankly at the windmill.

The windmill turned, and the wooden shaft made a gurgling sound.

The gear set had long been overturned and redesigned by Moren, with each step accelerating the gears until the rudimentary generator at the bottom was running at high speed.

Lyme stared at the windmill for a while before asking in a low voice:

"Master, what is this?"

"Something really powerful."

Molen answered.

"With this, you'll never have to eat iron rods again."

This primitive wind turbine can't compare to modern equipment; it's at best an experimental model. It has low output power, unstable voltage, and has to be rolled up when the wind is strong, and it stops working when the wind stops.

But since we're just starting out, the main focus is on making it usable.

Moren had previously instructed the rat girls to use the acid secreted by the limes and the lead plates produced in the mines to create a large number of bulky lead-acid batteries.

The design is a little ugly, the size is a little big, but that's not a problem. As long as there's lime, there's plenty of acid and lead plates.

If one battery's capacity isn't enough, connect two in series; if two aren't enough, connect four in series.

If you string enough potatoes together, they can shoot lightning arrows.

With initial electricity, metals can be extracted from slime acid through electrolysis, which not only avoids consuming iron but also reduces the acidity of slime acid.

The Aishan mine has inexhaustible resources, and magnets that cannot be produced by ourselves can be replaced by excitation generators in the future.

We can build as many generators as needed; if we don't have enough windmills, we can use water turbines or hamster wheels.

Thus, electricity generates copper, copper generates electricity, and electricity generates everything.

Molen's lips couldn't help but curl upwards.

What does it mean to be technologically superior? This is what it means to be technologically superior. How can a team with four levels of technology lose to a team with only one level of technology?

I've managed to get my hands on the hacked version; a bright future is just around the corner!

Lyme looked at the smug Morren, then looked up at the magnificent windmill, then turned to look at the laughing and merrily mouse girls, and lowered his head.

Her light green bangs hung down, obscuring her eyes.

She remained silent, but a look of disappointment appeared on her small face.

Morren glanced at her.

It's not hard to guess.

Born into slavery, the slime girl learns a lesson from a young age.

You are a tool, and the value of a tool lies in its usefulness.

Now that her master has created a better tool than her, where can this old tool go?

She knew the answer better than anyone else.

Molen smiled slightly; this was a gross underestimation of him.

In his hands, how could there be any useless monster girls?

"What are you thinking about?"

He tossed the last half of the honey biscuit in his hand toward Lyme.