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Langpu arrived at the palace entrance, an expression of "unease" surprisingly appearing on his ugly face. He said softly:

"Master, I have arrived."

"Enter."

The palace doors slowly opened.

The ogre mage cautiously walked in, bowing his bloated body, nervously awaiting instructions, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Those mages who worked under Langpu, suffering under his constant mockery and scorn, would never have imagined their leader to be in such a pathetic state—unthinkable for them.

"Langpu, I assume you’ve noticed my recent... unstable condition."

"Master, I..."

Langpu glanced up cautiously, breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing that Cassius’s eyes lacked that destructive glow. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

But he quickly realized something else of great importance.

The ogre quickly knelt before the Red Dragon, looking like a living mountain of flesh.

"Master, you... you have finally returned."

"As your loyal servant, it was a great failing on my part not to remind you in time. This is my transgression! Please punish me—"

His voice carried a sob, almost choking, his grotesque face twisted in a way that Cassius could hardly bear to look at.

Cassius, somewhat amused by the shrewd ogre mage, shook his head.

"Enough. I didn’t summon you here for you to cry and complain."

Cassius interrupted, slightly exasperated.

Langpu immediately dropped his exaggerated expression, took out a handkerchief to wipe his tears, put on his golden-rimmed glasses, and stood quietly by the side—like any calm and composed high-level mage would.

Despite everything, Cassius trusted his loyal follower.

The Red Dragon commanded:

"You must have seen that frenzied state of destruction—like the ’Draconic Madness’ described in texts. In fact, I have been influenced by a demon lord. I need you to mobilize the entire nation’s resources to find a way to preserve my sanity and ward off the influence of the Abyss, at any cost."

"Yes, Master."

Langpu lowered his head solemnly in reply.

Cassius continued, "And there’s one more thing."

"I need you to craft a piece of durable magic equipment—something that can detect when I’m entering that frenzied ’Draconic Madness’ state and immediately alert me so that I can snap out of it."

"Use the chaos parameters of the surrounding Weave as a basis for detection."

Langpu had already pulled out a transparent notebook, jotting down the instructions one by one.

The ogre mage adjusted his golden-rimmed glasses and respectfully said, "Master, from a technical standpoint, it is not difficult to create equipment that can detect the Weave."

He paused slightly.

"But the challenge is how to make it resilient enough to withstand your battles while still providing an alert strong enough to wake you."

"But I will do my utmost and not let you down."

Cassius nodded slightly.

At the Red Dragon’s signal, Langpu turned and left.

Though there were not many tasks this time, each of them was incredibly challenging.

The Ember Kingdom’s Department of Magic would be kept very busy.

Those human mages with dark circles under their eyes and thinning hair would once again begin working overtime, day in and day out, in pursuit of better spells, more gold coins, and higher status.

Northwind Fortress, outskirts of the city.

Hundreds of civilians were drawn in by the commotion, gathering around, chattering among themselves.

"What is that thing?"

"Is it an iron bull?"

"The people from the Department of Mechanisms really waste materials, laying down good steel like that. Tsk tsk, think how many fine swords could’ve been forged from it."

"What a joke. What could this thing possibly be useful for?"

Amid the crowd, a man with a bulbous nose and dragon scales on his face strode confidently, flanked by a Tiefling guard.

The onlookers quickly moved aside, afraid to provoke this Dragonblood noble.

"Who is that big shot? Look at those dragon scales on his face. I’m jealous."

"That’s Gilmo."

"The craftsman noble?"

"What a lucky lord."

Whispers ran through the crowd.

This noble was none other than the so-called "Craftsman Representative," Gilmo Sparrow.

He had once been a nondescript blacksmith in the eastern part of the city but had risen to nobility after identifying flaws in the rifle production line and improving upon them, becoming a Dragonblood noble in the process.

His story was widely celebrated as the quintessential "Ember Kingdom Dream," making many in Northwind Fortress envious, hoping one day they too could rise through their efforts.

Seeing the viscount arrive, the busy workers immediately gathered around.

"Viscount, the track has been laid."

"We’ve cleared away anyone obstructing the route."

"The coal and water for the steam engine are ready. We’re just waiting for your order to begin the experiment."

The project manager squeezed through the crowd and stood before Gilmo, fawning slightly.

Gilmo beamed, taking a swig of his liquor, his face flushed as he rubbed his hands together.

"You’ve all worked hard these past days. It’s about time we see some results."

"Begin."

"Yes, sir!"

The manager immediately stood at attention, even saluting.

At the sound of the whistle, the workers sprang into action, and the colossal "Iron Bull" finally began to move.

Within the magical steam boiler, complex runes released scorching flames, boiling water into steam. The steam was then delivered to the cylinder through pipes.

As the arcane field valve controlled the timing for steam to enter the cylinder, the steam flowed through the main steam valve and throttle valve into the valve chamber, alternating between entering the left or right side of the cylinder under the control of the slide valve, driving the magical piston.

"Clang... clang... clang..."

The piston moved violently, driving the iron "limbs," and the wheels beneath gradually began to turn, eventually causing the heavy "Iron Bull" to move.

The crowd erupted in excitement, though skeptical voices were also heard.

"It’s moving!"

"It actually moved!"

"This ’Iron Bull’ can really run!"

"But it’s so slow, I might as well ride a horse."

"Yeah, even John from next door’s donkey cart is faster."

The steam engine continued to operate, with the cooling steam being channeled into the condenser and condensed back into water through a cooling rune array. This process repeated itself as the engine ran.

"Woo—"

Accompanied by a long whistle, the exhaust produced from burning coal was expelled through the top pipe, gray-black smoke lingering in the air like the labored breaths of the massive machine.

"Fantastic, it’s a success!"

"We finally met the target!"

"It actually reached the end!"

When the steam engine reached its destination, everyone present—from workers to managers, including Viscount Gilmo—cheered.

Gilmo glanced at the murmuring civilians with disdain, thinking, "These fools could never understand His Majesty’s grand vision."

"Before, moving something of this weight would have required at least a third-circle advanced spell. Now it only takes a few rudimentary rune arrays and some coal and water—and this is far from its limit."

"Once the railways are laid in the future, His Majesty’s army could be deployed anywhere in the kingdom within a day, and the same goes for grain and goods."