A Hospital in Another World? - C.224

The dwarves of the entire Mithril Zone looked at Garrett with eyes of gratitude. It was him who, disregarding his own safety, rescued Elder Talbert; it was him who took on the task assigned by the Magic Council to improve the refining process of mithril.

It was after his intervention that the Magic Council could refine mithril on their own without relying on Elder Talbert’s divine magic. And now, it was him who confidently stepped forward, declaring, "I’ll figure out how to increase the output of semi-finished products!"

Garrett was brimming with confidence—or at least, he appeared to be. He had long suspected that the unstable production of mithril semi-finished products was due to insufficient temperature in the fire pit (or furnace, or whatever it was called). For this reason, he had made several contingency plans. But those plans...

Garrett decided to start with a manpower attempt. Clad in a full set of magical defenses, he cautiously approached the fire pit from five meters away, holding a tube of potassium permanganate. Lowering his head, focusing, adjusting his aim—

Dragon’s Breath!

A fan-shaped blast of intense white flames brushed against the lava, jetting out and sweeping past the old dwarf standing a meter away. The old dwarf quickly grabbed some ore and plunged it into the white flames, gently shaking it. In just an instant, the handle of the spoon used to hold the ore burst into flames, and the ore sank into the magma with a dull thud...

"Uh..."

Garrett quickly stopped casting the spell, awkwardly looking at the old dwarf. However, Elder Siegn remained unusually calm. Bending down, he scooped up another spoonful of ore from the lava. After turning his arm, he lowered his head to examine it and nodded in satisfaction:

"Not bad, quite useful."

He turned halfway, stretched his arm, and handed the product in the spoon to Garrett. The stout dwarf’s body even bent slightly, and in his gaze toward Garrett, at least 50% of it contained respect:

"Sir, thank you for your help. As long as this kind of flame continues to burn, doubling the output of mithril is definitely not a problem."

Garrett completely missed the meaning behind his words. As half-melted ore was presented before him, emitting waves of hot steam, Garrett reflexively jumped back, retreating several steps:

"Don’t come near me! frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

My [Heat and Cold Resistance] can’t even handle boiling water, and the magical defenses on me can’t withstand molten steel! And do you think I’d stand here for eight hours a day, cosplaying as a human dragon? I’m not that foolish! Confirming that high temperature can help refine ore is enough; what comes next should be handed over to machinery, not manpower!"

Garrett nodded vaguely at the dwarf and turned to leave. As he walked, he pondered: So how do we increase the furnace temperature? What type of furnace is used for iron smelting again? Blast furnace? Open hearth furnace? Bessemer converter?

Forgive Garrett for only knowing these names; he had no idea what they actually looked like. Even if pictures were placed in front of him, he might not be able to correctly identify them.

What does the interior of the furnace look like? Where does the fuel enter, where does the ore go in, where does the oxygen blow in, and where does the molten iron—or in this case, the semi-finished mithril—come out? Garrett had once scribbled wildly with a pen, resulting in seven or eight messy blobs on the paper...

And, the furnace seemed to require refractory bricks. What were the ingredients and firing methods of refractory bricks?

No idea, no clue, goodbye.

Of course, there were other ways to increase combustion temperature. For example, add fuel? Add gasoline, diesel, kerosene?

Garrett wasn’t sure if there was petroleum in this world; he had never seen it anyway.

Burn hydrogen gas? Too dangerous, Garrett didn’t want to blow himself up.

Add aluminum thermite? Garrett silently reminded himself to bring over the electrolytic smelting technology and play with some magnesium and aluminum later...

So, among all the technical routes, the most likely to succeed seemed to be just two words:

Blow oxygen.

How much to blow? Unknown.

Oxygen partial pressure? Flow rate? Pressure? Unknown.

Where to blow from?

Also unknown. In Garrett’s mind, there were only the solitary words "blow oxygen."

As for how to blow...

Garrett took out a bottle of oxygen—from the process of electrolyzing water—and beckoned his follower from behind:

"Can you move—or blow—this gas from this bottle directly above the fire pit, into contact with the lava?"

"No problem!" fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Aurora Worton rubbed her hands eagerly. With a casual gesture, the bottle mouth exploded. Before the oxygen in the bottle could escape—perhaps it did, but it was invisible to the naked eye—a translucent force field rolled out, and a white light exploded in the magma pool.

"This is it!" the bearded dwarf shouted. "This is the size of flame we need!"

Then, the white light flashed and disappeared...

Half the dwarves looked at Garrett, while the other half looked at Aurora, and then followed Aurora’s gaze to Garrett...

Garrett shrugged and took out another bottle of oxygen. This time, the old dwarf by the fire pit struck a pose, his chest heaving, his arm muscles bulging. He turned to stare at Garrett and nodded heavily:

"Come!"

For the second time, the oxygen bottle was opened, the spell was cast to transfer the oxygen, and flames soared. The old dwarf scrambled to swing the ore into the white fire, retrieving it to inspect, sighing, "Not enough. The burning time is too short; it needs to be doubled at least. Honorable mage, do you have a solution?"

There was indeed a solution. But it required a large amount of oxygen and maintaining airflow... This was the moment to test industrial strength!

"I have a way! But it requires the support of the council—leave it to me, and wait!"

Garrett bid farewell and returned to the Tower of Heaven, heading to Laboratory 3 on the 375th floor. The laboratory was in chaos, with a new group of people working. The previous water tanks, graphite rods, bottles, and jars were all gone. It seemed that the electrolytic refining had succeeded, and the project team had disbanded, with each mage returning to their own duties.

Garrett froze. He stood at the entrance of the laboratory for three seconds, then let out a scream:

"Don’t leave! Where is everyone?!"

What about the by-products of the electrolysis process? Did they extract pure oxygen efficiently using magic? Even if that failed, could they at least leave me a couple of oxygen bottles?!

He paced in circles at the entrance of the laboratory, like a melting candle, dejectedly squatting down. Aurora Worton quickly came over to pull him up:

"Boss, it’s okay, I’ll take you to find them. They’re all my senior brothers and sisters, and I’m familiar with them!"

"Aurora," Garrett looked at him with lifeless eyes, "Why do you think they ran away so fast? They didn’t even write a

paper! Just separating and analyzing air alone could generate several papers. Why did they run away?!"

"Um... well, boss," Aurora scratched his head, "Maybe they’re waiting for you to write? After all, it was your proposal. They can’t just write without your approval and snatch away the recognition and rewards you deserve, right?"

"..." Garrett realized belatedly that there was also something called the corresponding author. The boss was responsible for determining the topic, finding funding, leading the project, and overseeing everything. Capable researchers, under the guidance of the boss, were responsible for leading the team and doing independent work.

Of course, such researchers were mostly qualified to be first authors, not begrudgingly accepting second or third authorship.

"...Let them write. After they finish, let me check it, and if it’s okay, I’ll sign as the corresponding author. —What I need now is oxygen! Oxygen!"

As long as my patients can breathe in oxygen, whether it’s during breathing difficulties or surgery, having enough oxygen to inhale, those papers and whose names they’re under, I couldn’t care less.

The nearly disbanded—or already disbanded—project team once again efficiently mobilized.

Upon learning that Garrett had a way to increase the output of semi-finished products, mages immediately followed his instructions, working diligently. They set up a force field box, vigorously filled it with air until it couldn’t take anymore, then threw in [Cryogenic Rays], [Frost Breath], [Ice Ball Spells], [Northern Winds]...

"Very good! It’s starting to liquefy! Turn it all into liquid and then raise the temperature a little more..."

BOOOOOOM!

Under Igor Peak, exclusive to Thunder Horn, where dangerous explosion experiments were conducted, the entire stone platform shook. The next moment, a strong light shone from the Tower of Heaven, and Archmage Carlisle swiftly descended from the peak, penetrating the barriers, his descent speeding up:

"What are you doing!"

"Uh... Garrett wants the fire-breathing air, but we’ve used up all we made before..."

It turned out that without a 13th-level or higher grand mage present, relying solely on force field barriers to liquefy air wasn’t something that could be done casually...

Anyway, Garrett got what he wanted in the end:

Under the leadership of Archmage Carlisle and with the help of three highest-level students, pure oxygen was finally separated without the support of a mage tower;

Another grand mage personally intervened, using steel infused with aurum to create thick steel cylinders for oxygen storage;

After filling them up, they were sent to the Mithril Zone, where mages from the Alchemy Guild of the Transmutation School, responsible for maintaining the magic array, buried pipelines in the walls to directly blow oxygen from the steel cylinders above the fire pit.

Oh, and those pipes were retractable, extending when blowing oxygen and retracting when not in use, to prevent oxygen from spraying out of the ceiling and wasting...

"Mithril ore refining, first oxygen blowing experiment, begins!"

Garrett issued the command. Aurora Worton sat in the corner of the Mithril Forging Room, casting [Brute Bull Strength] on herself, gripping the valve of the oxygen cylinder with both hands. Mage Denfrees stood in another corner, pressing the button to extend the pipe from the ceiling...

The air hissed. Soon, the edge of the fire pit was roiling with lava, the golden flames turning white, billowing upwards.

"Now it’s a matter of conducting experiments one by one, finding the right flow rate... The Magic Council will replace the oxygen cylinders regularly and retrieve the used ones. Anyone can do this bit of work, right? Oh, right, also need to be careful not to let the cylinders explode..."

Garrett hummed a tune as he walked out. Before long, cheers erupted from the cavern behind him.

"Oh, right! Where’s my oxygen! Leave me a bottle of oxygen! Ahhhhh!"