After seeing what the bows and crossbows Lin Mo had brought could do, the Elves' enthusiasm blazed like a dry forest set alight. The entire camp buzzed with excitement.
But that enthusiasm lasted less than half a day.
Lin Mo sat with his legs crossed on a large rock worn smooth and glossy, crunching on a Crisp Honeyfruit, an Elven specialty, as he calculated how much time they had.
They hadn't even gathered a complete set of parts for the first batch of weapons. Hopefully, the Demon Clan's army wouldn't come knocking to collect their heads before then.
Now that would be one hell of a mess.
Just then, a clamor of heated arguments rose from the workshop nearby.
A moment later, Fendona and Master Elder hurried over one after the other, their faces full of anxiety.
"Sir Lin Mo!"
As though he were holding a heap of scrap iron, Master Elder dumped all the metal parts in his hands onto the stone table with a clatter, his old face scrunched up in misery.
"We... we can't make them."
Lin Mo raised an eyebrow and casually flicked the fruit core behind him, sending it through a perfect arc.
"What's wrong? Are the blueprints too complicated to understand?"
"No, we've already studied the blueprints thoroughly!" Fendona cut in, her slender fingers poking through the pile of parts, her voice filled with helplessness and frustration.
"The problem is, we can't 'mass-produce' them."
Lin Mo: ???
Seeing that Lin Mo didn't seem to understand, Master Elder picked up two gears that appeared identical in shape, sheen, and weight, then held them out to him.
"Look. My finest apprentice and I painstakingly made these from the same piece of adamantine, strictly following the dimensions on the blueprints. But..."
He picked up one gear and easily fitted it into the slot in a Compound Bow's pulley assembly. It turned smoothly, without the slightest resistance.
Perfect.
Then he swapped it for the other. It went only halfway in before jamming tight, as though blocked by an invisible wall. It would neither go farther in nor come back out.
"Every craftsman's hands are unique." Master Elder's old face flushed bright red.
"When making traditional bows, these tiny differences are the mark of a craftsman's soul. They're what make each piece a unique work of art!"
"But in these precision weapons... they're a damned pile of shit!"
The old master was so worked up that he even started swearing.
"We gathered our ten finest craftsmen and spent an entire afternoon hammering away, only to successfully assemble five Repeating Crossbows!"
"And those Compound Bows! The moment you draw them fully, the whole frame groans and creaks like it's about to fall apart! Who would dare use one?"
"Before you could shoot an enemy dead, a snapping bow limb would probably kill you first!"
Lin Mo understood immediately.
The "artistry" that handcrafting workshops took such pride in had crashed headfirst into the cold "standards" of industrial production and shattered on impact.
The underlying code for "tolerances" and "interchangeable parts" had never been installed in these long-eared folks' CPUs.
In their worldview, a single craftsman had to handle every weapon from start to finish. Fitting parts together was all about "working them in," "compatibility," and some nebulous "feel."
"Your problem isn't technical."
Lin Mo uncrossed his legs, stood up, and looked at the two of them.
"It's your mindset."
Seriously, he was an outstanding young man of the modern age who had completed nine years of compulsory education and tightened screws on an assembly line. If he couldn't see through something this basic, he would be a disgrace to the red Young Pioneer scarf he'd once worn.
"Our mindset?"
Fendona and Elder froze, speaking in unison.
"That's right. Your mindset."
Lin Mo casually picked up the two "identical" gears from the table and hefted them in his hand.
"To you, these are two individual works of art, each infused with your heart and soul."
Master Elder nodded instinctively, a trace of pride as a master craftsman still lingering on his face.
The next second, Lin Mo opened his hand without expression.
Clang!
The two gears struck the stone table with a sharp, grating ring.
"To me, they're two pieces of failed industrial junk."
"J-junk?!"
Master Elder stood stunned, as though struck by lightning.
That word was ten thousand times more insulting than calling him a useless old fool to his face!
"Yes, junk," Lin Mo confirmed bluntly, tapping the two gears with a finger.
"Because they aren't interchangeable!"
"If a weapon breaks on the battlefield, you can't even salvage a part from another broken one to keep it going."
"What do you call that? A disposable product?"
"It means every repair requires the original maker, or an even better craftsman, to custom-make a new part on the spot."
"Anyone who didn't know better would think you were cutting keys. Tell me, are you qualified? Just how many keys are you good for?"
"With efficiency like that, even the slowest turtle would crawl over to give you a thumbs-up and call you a fellow professional."
Quick-witted as she was, Fendona immediately seized on the flash of lightning piercing through the confusion.
"You mean... every part made by every craftsman has to be... exactly the same?"
"Exactly!" Lin Mo snapped his fingers.
"Not just 'looking' the same. You measure with rulers and calipers, and every measurement has to fall within an acceptable margin of error. That's called 'standardization.' Understand?"
"But... how is that possible?" Master Elder cried. "By the Queen! Everyone's touch, strength, even breathing is different. How could we possibly make everything exactly the same?"
"That's why you need to stop trusting those failing eyes and callused hands of yours."
Lin Mo glanced at the Elven craftsmen in the workshop, still grinding away using ancient methods with looks of solemn devotion, and shook his head.
"What you need are molds, jigs, and a standardized process that can train even an idiot into a qualified worker."
"Not some bullshit 'craftsman's spirit' or vague 'artistic inspiration'!"
His words struck every watching Elven craftsman's heart like an invisible sledgehammer.
The pride we've passed down for tens of thousands of years... is bullshit?
Yet Fendona showed not the slightest sign of offense. Instead, her face lit up.
She felt as though a door to a new world was slowly opening before her.
Beyond it lay a way of thinking she had never imagined, utterly different from the Elves' thousands of years of tradition: powerful, efficient, cold, and captivating.
"Lin Mo..."
Fendona's voice trembled with excitement she couldn't suppress.
"Could you... teach us? This 'standardization'?"
Lin Mo grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth.
"That's easy."
It's just calipers, vernier scales, and a few standard molds. Simple.
Fendona's eyes shone even brighter, like the two most brilliant stars in the night sky. She watched Lin Mo expectantly, waiting for his next instructions.
Lin Mo looked back at Fendona, his eyes full of encouragement.
Fendona blinked and kept looking at Lin Mo.
Lin Mo blinked too and kept looking at Fendona.
Fendona: ???
Before you continue