Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Meanwhile, Dartford.

Inside the explosives lab, Abel and Thomas were still adjusting the gunpowder ratio. Abel poured the liquid from the dropper into test tubes and placed them in the water bath. He turned around and noticed that Thomas's pen hadn't moved yet.

"What's wrong, child?" Abel asked with concern. "Is something on your mind?"

Thomas shook his head, picked up his pen, and began to write neatly on the paper, leaving lines of numbers.

"I'm fine, sir. How could my personal matters be more important than this gunpowder?" he replied softly.

Abel put down his work, walked slowly to Thomas's side, looked at the anxiety and unease on Thomas's face, and sighed softly.

"Son, I can be too strict with you sometimes, but you know I care about you, right?" he said. "If you have anything on your mind, feel free to tell me."

Professor Abel's words silenced Thomas for a few seconds. Since he had worked under Abel, although he was often reprimanded, Mr. Abel was still a gentle gentleman in Thomas's mind.

So he placed his pen on the notebook and slowly said, "Sir, is this really the life you want?"

Abel frowned slightly: "What do you mean?"

Thomas lowered his head: "No offense intended, but with your talent and status, you could easily retire to the front lines, write a few books, and never deal with sulfur and nitric acid again. Yet you stand here, risking your life every day to create gunpowder to defend Britain."

His voice was low, as if he had completely lost faith in science: "This way, the theorists at the Royal Chemistry Institute can sit in their heated studies and argue all day about whether the atom exists... That's so unfair."

Abel's expression turned serious after hearing his words.

"Do you think my fate is unfair, or yours?" he asked.

Thomas suddenly looked up at Abel, unsure how to respond.

Abel pulled up a stool and sat down beside him, his voice coming from among the bottles and jars: "I understand, you think real chemists should be those who are on the front lines doing the work, but even they need to rely on theoretical tools. Chemistry is not an empirical discipline, son."

Thomas lowered his eyes. He was not convinced, but his mentor's words made him reconsider his life goals.

When he first received the opportunity to study at Heidelberg University, he thought it was the beginning of his life changing his destiny.

But when he finally graduated, faced with the extremely high barriers to entry for jobs in the UK, he could only slink back to the Royal Chemistry Department with his tail between his legs and accept his superiors' assignment to become an assistant.

He admitted that the professors who studied theory at the university were far smarter than him, but they were useless in the current quagmire of Europe.

Just as he was lost in thought, the laboratory door was suddenly pushed open.

Reginald stood in the doorway, followed by two uniformed police officers. He stared intently at Thomas's pale face and said, "Mr. Thomas, you are under arrest."

Upon seeing this, Abel suddenly stood up, strode over to Reginald, and stretched out his arm to block him.

"What do you mean by this, sir?" he asked angrily. "The sign outside clearly says: No Trespassing!"

Reginald scoffed, pulled a pipe from his pocket, and put it in his mouth. "Mr. Abel, I advise you not to interfere with my work. Your student has become their spy since returning from Prussia. If we were to investigate, I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to afford the consequences."

Abel's arm froze in mid-air. He turned to Thomas and asked incredulously, "Thomas, is what he said... all true? You really betrayed your country?"

Thomas sat in his chair without saying a word, only clenching his fists tightly.

Abel took a step forward and pressed on urgently, "Speak to me, child! I don't believe you would do such a thing!"

Thomas bit his lip and answered without hesitation, "The British Empire is gradually heading towards its demise. Ten million square miles of colonies can't save it. As long as the same aristocracy remains in power, nothing will change."

Abel stood there in astonishment, unable to believe that such words would come from the mouth of his student.

“I was born in the slums,” Thomas continued. “I was born empty-handed.”

"But generations have changed..." Abel lamented.

"I don't have a father who left me a factory or a large amount of land."

"But Richard has given you the opportunity and opened the door for you."

Thomas gave a wry smile: "Even if I had the chance, sir, it would be impossible for him to develop to this point in just two years without external help."

"But you're so smart!" The words burst from Abel's throat.

"Aren't you the same?" Thomas looked at him bitterly. "You should know best what those noble gentlemen have done to people like us."

Abel held his forehead with his hand, his body becoming weak, like a father who saw his child embark on a path of no return, powerless to stop it.

Reginald straightened his back and asked coldly, "Are you done complaining? If you are, come with me."

He waved to the police officers on either side, and the two men gripped their batons and handcuffs, carefully approaching Thomas.

Suddenly, as if he had made up his mind, Thomas whispered to Abel, "I'm sorry, Professor."

Then, he suddenly stood up, raising his clenched fist high.

He held a glass test tube between his fingers, the colorless liquid inside glistening with an oily sheen.

It was a vial of undiluted nitroglycerin, which he had secretly taken from the lab rack while Abel and Reginald were confronting each other.

In a laboratory filled with explosives, simply smashing this test tube onto a hard concrete floor would instantly tear apart molecular bonds with the energy of the impact. The chain reaction would transform the heat and shock wave into a detonation, which would then ignite other flammable materials in the laboratory.

Thomas took a few steps back, his back against the glass window of the blast chamber: "Don't move! Otherwise, we'll all die here today!"

Abel recognized the liquid in the test tube at a glance. He looked at the propanol and gunpowder samples in the laboratory, and Thomas's crazy actions immediately made him break out in a cold sweat.

He stepped back, extending his arm to shield Reginald, who had already drawn his revolver, and shouted, "Don't fire, sir! If he drops that test tube, a series of explosions will turn us to charred remains!"