Chapter 1982 - 537: Sage Time_2

Otherwise, it wouldn't be worthy of his genius!

Horace isn't the only one who doesn't know how to hunt.

A few others, who have only become wealthy in the last few years, are sitting in the garden drinking tea, reading newspapers, and chatting with cigars they've not smoked.

"...In the name of Saint Sis, has their Majesty gone mad?"

"No, there must be someone clever advising him! It's something I recently realized, that the economic backbone of the Ryan Kingdom is the estates, and the mill masters reliant on the landowners are actually the wealthiest class."

"Class... This word sounds so new; I think I've read it from the Encyclopedia."

"That's where I learned it, and it's precisely this word that inspired me! If we force the mill masters to take on the Royal Family's debts, they can squeeze out more profit."

"Hiss... But what if the mill masters are squeezed dry?"

"That's the tricky part; the bread industry's chain is too short. There's only one mill master between the baker and the nobles, and this mill master, dependent on the nobles, probably doesn't understand investment and only saves money. If the mill masters are consumed, the snake will bite its own tail."

"And then?"

Looking at his friend deep in thought, the man with a hat replied teasingly.

"No one knows what will happen tomorrow. After all, I've never seen a snake that's bold enough to bite its own tail or starve itself to death... Perhaps Saint Sis will send an Angel to help them, as they always claim to be the purest."

"Haha!"

The factory owners didn't realize that their conversation at this moment coincides with Adam Smith's criticism of the "Bread Act" in the Wealth of Nations from another world.

And that debt pressure transmitted through the economic chain strangely aligns with David Ricardo's theories of "Land Rent Theory" and class transference in Political Economy and Taxation Principles.

The scholars in the Campbell Duchy have not yet emerged to draw these historical lessons, as all are currently amidst the flow of history, holding newspapers freshly printed just days ago.

However, like monkeys who know to throw stones, these keen industrialists immediately use their rich experience and limited theories to pierce through the fog before them.

If Baron Wickton intends to harvest them, they at least can see where the knife will cut and how soon it might reach them.

This is the power of knowledge and logic.

Listening to the high-spirited discussions of those factory owners, Horace's face was full of surprise, suddenly realizing he had distanced himself from them.

When did this group of guys become so cultured?

Although he didn't much like reading before, perhaps he should buy an Encyclopedia and carefully examine its content...

...

Not far from the Granton New Town Hall, the ancient oak forest, lush and verdant, spreads its dense leaves like a giant parasol, fragmenting the afternoon sunlight into mottled light spots.

Two fine horses ride side by side on the forest path, their hooves quietly pressing on the soft humus.

Occasional crisp bird calls disturb the forest's tranquility, but they do not hinder the quest of the two hunters.

Riding on the hunting path, Duke Edward did not carry the traditional hunting bow; instead, he wielded a sleek, new-style firearm.

The gunstock is crafted from superior-grade walnut wood, soaked and polished repeatedly with tung oil, displaying a warm red hue, stark against the cold barrel.

Alongside him, Luo Yan held a weapon of the same specification.

This is the latest masterpiece from the Punk Armory Factory, named "Roxey Model 1054 Rifle" by Luo Yan.

Truth be told, he was just too lazy to name it.

At this moment, Edward suddenly pulled the reins, seemingly hearing movement within the forest.

Luo Yan followed his gaze and saw, by a bush three hundred meters away, a gray-brown wild rabbit cautiously poking its head out, completely unaware of Death's approach.

Three hundred meters.

For conventional smoothbore guns, this is entirely a matter of chance. By the time the bullet, performing "Brownian motion," arrives, it might have veered off to its grandmother's house.

However, Edward did not hesitate.

He skillfully raised the gun, the stock firmly braced against his shoulder, and then decisively pulled the trigger.

Bam—!

The muzzle emitted a white puff of smoke, startling the birds atop the trees.

Almost simultaneously with the gunshot, the rabbit three hundred meters away twitched suddenly and then collapsed in the grass, never to move again.

"Good gun!"

Edward did not rush to retrieve his prey but, instead, fondly caressed the hot gun barrel, paying particular attention to its intricate bolt action.

He was like a child who had received a new toy, his eyes full of delight.

"Punk's engineers are truly geniuses. Who would have thought they found inspiration from a latch, a slight modification elevates the power of firearms to another level!"

As he spoke, he pulled the bolt again; the silky mechanical feel and crisp bolt sound utterly entranced this knight with Gold Level strength.

Evidently, Linte Isaac didn't leave without a legacy, at least planting the fascination with machines into the veins of the land's descendants.

"We call it the 'bolt-action rifle.'"

Luo Yan smiled and rode forward, speaking conversationally.