Internal Combustion Engine

Julian was somewhat puzzled. From what he knew, the substance in the bottle seemed to be some kind of compound extracted from coal.

He could not make sense of what his boss's vague phrase, "a new era," actually meant.

"All right. Is there anything else?"

Edwin calmed the surging emotions in his chest and carefully set the glass bottle back on the desk.

"No—"

Julian shook his head.

He could keenly sense that his boss's mind was completely elsewhere. Reporting any more trivial business matters would only be a futile buzzkill.

He was a smart man and knew when to remain silent.

He neatly placed the sorted documents in a corner of the desk, gave a slight bow, and quietly left the office.

The heavy door shut, its dull click cutting off everything outside. Only Edwin, the bottle of orange-yellow liquid before him, and the long slanting shadow cast by the gas lamp remained.

The office fell silent.

Edwin reached out, his fingertips touching the cold glass bottle once more.

His gaze penetrated the amber liquid, but his thoughts had already drifted back more than a decade.

Back when he had first learned about this world, his first instinct had been to search for petroleum.

It was the black blood of modern industry and one of the most important raw materials for chemical engineering.

He had once confidently believed that, with knowledge far beyond the era, finding petroleum would surely allow him to greatly accelerate the course of this world's history.

However, reality had given him a resounding slap in the face.

He spent his savings hiring explorers and geologists, combed through countless ancient texts and local chronicles, and questioned well-traveled merchants and travelers.

Yet the results were astonishingly consistent: this world seemed to have no such black, viscous, flammable