Mysterious: The Innate Sacred Body of Destiny

Chapter 375 A Concern from Backlund

"Lever-type firearms are still inefficient and have certain limitations in terms of posture—"

It was a rainy day, so Lorne didn't go out and chose to stay in his hotel room instead.

He finally had some free time to design his firearms blueprints and complete his arms empire.

This time, he plans to get another pump-action shotgun.

"The M1897—yes, this gun is known as the 'trenching machine,' a nightmare in close-quarters combat, perfectly suited to the combat style of this era—"

"It's also more convenient and simpler to operate than a lever-based system."

"However, this probably won't be possible to operate with one hand, since the loading method is different—"

"Unless a special lever mechanism is designed to assist in loading, but that requires a lot of arm strength, it can only be a custom-made model for extraordinary people or strongmen."

"9

Besides shotguns, Lorne was also considering designing other weapons. After all, the Negan family would be investing in him, and he needed products for the military—moreover, as the industry expanded, he also needed new weapons to seize other markets.

"Submachine guns are possible, but the manufacturing process for mass production..."

The weapons he uses now are all handmade, and some parts have been reinforced with ritual magic.

"Let's go back and check out what their equipment is like at Backlund Arms Company."

After a moment of contemplation, an even bolder idea emerged.

"Maxim!"

"Why not just bring out the ancestor of machine guns?"

"The Maxim gun is an ancient weapon, but it's in line with the technological level of this era—it's quite good for defense."

He quickly jotted down the idea and planned to make a memo.

"Next up is the pistol—"

"After the production line is expanded, I will have the capacity and equipment to do these things."

"Many officers in the military need this thing, and it also has a large market in the civilian sector."

"Revolvers are indeed good, classic and reliable, but the market needs some fresh blood —"

Lorne quickly sketched a classic shape with a flick of his pencil.

"M1911 - A masterpiece by Browning, semi-automatic, powerful, robust and reliable, it remains a legendary classic even after a century."

This is what a modern military pistol should look like. Not only will military officers need it, but the high-end civilian defense market and the bodyguard industry will also be happy to pay for it.

Before time travel, almost everyone interested in firearms knew about this classic pistol; it could be considered the quintessential modern handgun.

"We have guns, how about we get some cannons?"

"We can't do without artillery either."

Lorne's thoughts continued to jump around. However, compared to firearms, he lacked much detailed knowledge about artillery, such as its specific structure, rifling, and propellant loading. The main reason was that while there was a lot of straightforward information about firearms online before his transmigration, detailed technical information about artillery was relatively scarce and specialized.

"Perhaps I can try to become an Iron Fist."

He thought of the legendary tank killer. Although tanks weren't widely used in this era, these things would be surprisingly effective at destroying bunkers.

In Lorne's mind, an RPG would be a better choice, but given the manufacturing capabilities of this world, whether an RPG could be made is a big question mark.

"Even if I can handle the design of Ironfist, I can't solve the problem of its propellant and warhead charge—smokeless powder, RDX—the formulation and industrial production of these things are another pitfall." Lorne patted his forehead, feeling that he had been aiming too high.

"Wait a minute. I'm so confused—" He felt his thoughts were jumping around too much.

There is clearly a weapon that is not technically difficult, easy to produce, and can be deployed on a large scale!

"Grenade!"

"I have seen the structural diagram of the Type 67 wooden-handled grenade. That thing was designed for mass production and was specifically designed to be produced in extreme environments."

"The structure is simple and the material requirements are not high. With the world's metal processing and chemical industry level, it is fully capable of mass production!"

"Hand grenades! A powerful weapon in positional warfare, a nightmare for close-range defense. Whether it's a regular army, militia, adventurers, or guards, everyone needs this inexpensive and powerful throwing weapon!"

Thinking of this, Lorne became excited and immediately took out a piece of draft paper to scribble and draw.

Cast iron projectile body, pre-formed fragmentation groove, wooden handle, pull-fire mechanism —

As he was drawing, a somewhat absurd thought suddenly flashed through his mind: "Weapons, and drugs—"

"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm a composite?"

Backlund.

"These past two days have been all about Scott —"

Fors lay lazily on the sofa, holding a copy of the Backlund Daily News, the headline of which read: "East End Hero Fights Assassin."

"Yeah—Scott has become the top star in Backlund now."

"After all, he saved the Conservative Party's bigwig, the Duke of Negan."

"And he himself was completely unharmed. The newspapers said the assassin didn't even touch the hem of his clothes," Forl recalled the report, his voice filled with amazement. "It's like something out of a novel."

"I also heard that the Negan family gave Scott a very generous reward as a token of their gratitude," Hugh said in a low voice, mysteriously adding, "It's said to be the kind that can make someone instantly become one of the wealthiest people in Backlund."

"Really?" Fors was somewhat incredulous upon hearing Hugh's story, but after a moment, she felt a pang of envy.

"That's great. Being a millionaire and all that—"

Fors rested her chin on her hand, lost in thought. Scott already had some businesses, and now, with the enormous gift from the Negan family, he could easily buy the best houses in Backlund, hire the most professional servants, expand his factory several times over, and have gold pounds flowing in like water every day—

If I became a wealthy man's wife, then I wouldn't have to work so hard writing and staying up all night to meet deadlines.

"Speaking of which, we still owe Scott a debt—" Hugh suddenly spoke up, interrupting Fors's reverie.

"I've been working hard to get commissions lately, Fors, your manuscript—"

"I—I'm writing, I'm writing." Fors was a little embarrassed, quickly turning her head to the side and changing the subject, "Hugh, have you seen Scott in the East End lately, since you've been going there every day?"

"I was thinking that if I could ask them to help promote my new book, I might become Backlund's bestselling author."

"Unfortunately, Scott isn't around these days." Hugh shrugged.

"I heard from old Kohler that Scott suddenly went out on an inspection a couple of days ago."

"And these past two days, when I passed by the factory, I noticed a lot of reporters gathered there."

"Old Kohler was also complaining that they were getting in the way of the factory."

"I also heard him say that quite a few nobles sent Scott invitations to dinners."

"Wouldn't a noble lady invite him to a salon?"

"What if there are matchmaking events that are ostensibly dinner parties but are actually just blind dates?"

Hearing Hugh's words, a chill ran through Fors' heart, and she subconsciously asked.

Scott is now so famous, so rich, and has become the Duke of Negan's benefactor—doesn't he now stand out as the most sought-after new socialite in Backlund? Her writer's thoughts began to wander uncontrollably.

Those discerning noble ladies will surely swarm around him like bees to honey! Inviting him to salons, dinners, and weekend hunts—those noble ladies of suitable age will likely also be quite fond of him.

After all, he was young, rich, and a hero—the perfect prototype for a novel's male protagonist!

An unprecedented sense of crisis suddenly gripped Fors.

If it were just Hazel Macht, whom she had encountered earlier, she wouldn't feel much pressure. But if a whole bunch of noble ladies from prominent families, with good upbringing and outstanding looks suddenly appeared—just thinking about that scene made her feel powerless.

"Right, right!" Fors suddenly looked up, her mind racing, "Hugh, do you think the Negan family might try to win Scott over by arranging a marriage between them? They could marry one of their daughters to him?"

"The Negan family is the most prestigious noble family. Could their daughters be as beautiful and elegant as Miss Audrey?" Hugh was taken aback by Fors's highly absurd and somewhat outlandish conjecture. She didn't react for a while. "Probably not—" she said uncertainly.

After all, marriage alliances between noble families are quite common, so it's not impossible that the Negan family might actually have their eye on Scott.

Thinking of this, she nervously rubbed her hands together, quickly recalling a reason: "The Negan family is a top-tier noble family, while Scott is just an ordinary person without a title—"

"Moreover, when I taught Scott to dance before, he showed that he wasn't very interested in the tedious etiquette and social occasions of the aristocracy. I think the reason he's going to other places now is probably to avoid these troublesome people."

Backland Docklands.

A passenger ship from the south slowly docked. From the crowd, a tall, slender, and striking woman stepped out.

She wore a slightly oversized white linen shirt, but over it was a black coat that was clearly men's style. Her long, curly black hair was casually draped over her shoulders, and a thin veil covered her face, making it impossible to see her features. She seemed to possess a natural charm, as well as a spirited air.

After leaving the dock, she went straight to a somewhat deserted newsstand on the street corner.

"A newspaper, the latest one."

The newsstand owner looked up and was momentarily stunned when he saw the woman. Even through the veil, her eyes and unique aura captivated him.

"Ugh—"

Only when urged by the other party did he take out a copy of the Backlund Times and hand it to them.

He didn't even take the money; he just watched that beautiful figure walk to the street corner.

"Eastern District Heroes—"

"Rescuing the Duke—"

"James Scott—" Tracy's azure eyes were fixed on the headline of the newspaper.

She then turned to another page and found that it was full of news about the other person.

"Brando's guns were made in his factory—"

"He must know Brando's whereabouts."