Chương 149: 149：High-Density Cotton Armor

Lyra stood completely frozen, her eyes wide, gasping as if all the air had been sucked from the tent. She stared down at her trembling, calloused hands. Yes! If she didn't force herself to cross that psychological threshold to kill, she just needed to fight exactly as she always had—putting her entire soul into precisely severing the enemy's limbs and tendons. She didn't need to touch the nightmare of her parents' death at all.

Yet, on this meat-grinder of a battlefield, she could unleash a destructive force far more terrifying than simply slitting a throat!

"I... I can do this! My Lord!" Lyra's spine, which had been gradually bowing under the crushing weight of years of self-blame, instantly snapped perfectly straight. Two lines of hot tears streamed down her cheeks. The invisible shackles that had oppressed her for half her life, the very burden that had made her a laughingstock among mercenaries, was utterly, violently shattered by the incredible young Lord sitting before her!

"As long as I don't aim above the neck... wherever you point, I will strike! These hands of mine are as steady as a mountain!"

"Excellent." A satisfied smile touched Soren's lips. He smoothly pulled the throwing knife from the heavy oak table, flipped it in his hand, and pressed the hilt firmly back into Lyra's palm.

"Now, in my capacity as Lord of Greywater Village, I formally accept you into our ranks."

"Go outside and find Quartermaster Kyle. Draw your set of black iron full-body armor."

"Starting tomorrow, you will begin specialized training for ambush and assassination operations." For a top-tier talent like Lyra, Soren had initially considered granting her a vial of [Basic Troll Serum]. However, for the sake of military discipline, he decided to withhold it until she officially earned it through combat merit.

"Yes! My Lord!" Lyra snapped to attention. This time, her fist-to-chest military salute was executed with absolute, textbook perfection. Her face practically radiated the fanatical zeal of a true zealot. Barely a moment after an ecstatic Lyra pushed past the tent flap to leave, another figure slipped inside with the graceful, silent step of a white deer. It was the territory's Chief Financial Officer, the fallen noble daughter: Fina Hawthorne.

Even in the harsh, mud-soaked environment of the swamp, Fina maintained an immaculate appearance. Her slightly curly blonde hair was tied elegantly behind her head, her demeanor projecting the flawless poise of high society.

"My Lord, it seems you have just added another fierce general to your vanguard." Fina offered a soft, knowing smile as she walked over, placing a massive, thick parchment ledger onto the wooden desk.

"Any progress on the internal affairs?" Soren asked, picking up a wooden cup of water.

"Excellent news, my Lord." Fina's sharp, intelligent eyes sparkled with genuine joy.

"This morning, our contact at Lone Cliff—the merchant Thomas—delivered on his end of the bargain."

"He sent a discreet caravan loaded with exactly what you requested. Three massive, heavily laden wagons..."

"Filled entirely with raw, unspun cotton!"

"Perfect! It's finally here!" Soren's eyes lit up. While the captured black iron heavy armor boasted staggering defensive properties, a full set easily weighed between thirty to forty kilograms. The only troops capable of bearing that crushing weight were his frontline elites who had been enhanced by the Basic Troll Serum. For the ordinary soldiers of the second-line spearmen phalanx, or the third and fourth-line auxiliaries? Forcing them into black iron armor would turn them into literal sitting ducks.

They would collapse from sheer exhaustion before they marched a single kilometer. But if they fought unarmored, the moment the formations broke into a chaotic melee against axe-wielding orcs, it would be a one-sided slaughter. Soren didn't waste a second. He stood up, grabbed a charcoal pencil, and rapidly sketched an exploded-view structural diagram of a completely new type of armor onto the parchment.

"Fina, go notify Kyle immediately. We have a total of two hundred and thirty-one women, children, and elderly in the village. Tell Kyle to issue every single one of them double rations tonight!"

"I want them working through the night. They are to crack open those wagons and immediately begin manufacturing cotton armor!" Fina stared at the strange, unprecedented schematic on the parchment, her brow furrowing in hesitation.

"My Lord... raw cotton is incredibly fluffy. Even if we stitch it tightly into a tunic, a single swing from an orc's axe will shred it to pieces. It's wonderful for fending off the winter chill, but how can it possibly serve as armor?" In Fina's mind—and indeed, in the collective knowledge of the entire Silvermoon Kingdom—cotton was nothing more than a cheap material used to stuff winter blankets. Soren revealed a bright, confident grin.

He was about to explain a manufacturing process that even the grandmaster blacksmiths of this fantasy world had never conceptualized.

"We aren't simply stuffing it into clothes. Tell Kyle to have the old carpenters carve out flat-bottomed stone rollers."

"First, take the raw cotton and soak it entirely in water. Let the fibers soften and expand. Then, lay it out completely flat."

"Mobilize the village's entire labor force. Use the heavy stone rollers to repeatedly crush, beat, and compress the wet cotton."

"Once a layer is hammered solid, stack another layer of wet cotton on top of it, and roll it again! Repeat this process until you have compressed over a dozen layers of thin cotton fabric into a single, rock-hard, ultra-high-density cotton board!" Soren brought his fist down onto the table with a heavy thud to emphasize the impact. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"Finally, take these highly compressed cotton boards and stitch them tightly together using thick horsehair thread, sealing them inside tailored linen tunics."

"Using this water-compression method, the resulting cotton armor boasts a tensile toughness comparable to thick, boiled ox-hide! Yet, its physical weight remains incredibly low. It will barely drain the wearer's stamina!" Though Fina possessed absolutely no military combat experience, her innate [Business Acumen] Talent allowed her mind to process logistical value at terrifying speeds. Hearing Soren's breakdown, her eyes widened in a sudden epiphany.

"What an unbelievable, ingenious concept!" Fina gasped in awe.

"If these high-density cotton layers are truly that resilient..."

"Exactly," Soren confirmed, his tone turning utterly clinical.

"When an orc's heavy broadhead arrow strikes at high velocity, these densely stitched, repeatedly compressed cotton fibers are incredibly difficult to pierce cleanly. The extreme toughness and shock-absorbing properties of the cotton will rapidly sap the kinetic energy, literally biting down and trapping the arrowhead within the layers!"

"As for defending against blunt-force trauma or the slashing impact of cold weapons, the dense padding provides absolute top-tier kinetic buffering!" Soren tapped the parchment.

"I want all seven hundred and thirty-six people currently residing in Greywater Village—from the cooks managing the fires to the goblin engineers carrying the banners—equipped with this high-mobility padded armor!"

"Yes, my Lord! I will coordinate the labor deployment immediately!" Fina felt her own blood begin to pump with excitement at the sheer brilliance of the logistical upgrade. Just as she closed her ledger and turned to leave, Soren called out to stop her.

"Wait. One more thing."

"Regarding the filthy, flea-infested animal hide tunics everyone will be discarding... do not throw them away."

"Have the elderly—those whose hands are too slow or who are too frail for the heavy rolling labor—completely deconstruct the old furs. Toss all of them into boiling cauldrons of water to sterilize and clean them."

"Once they're dried, have them cut to standard dimensions and stitched together to create insulated sleeping bags and moisture-proof bedrolls with inner linings." This meticulously calculated, resource-maximizing directive sent a profound wave of warmth rippling through Fina's heart. The young Lord standing before her wasn't just a ruthless, decisive general on the battlefield. He was a true protector—a leader who, even in the smallest logistical details, provided his people with the dignity to survive.

"As you command, my Lord." Fina offered a deep, incredibly elegant curtsy befitting a noble lady of the court. However, after finalizing the intricate domestic arrangements, Fina did not leave the tent. She leveled the heavy ledger she had been clutching to her chest. The excited smile slowly faded from her lips, replaced by the distinct, severe gravity of a Chief Financial Officer.

"Regarding the grand strategic future of the territory, my Lord... there is a critical matter I must formally bring to your attention." She opened the ledger. The pages were densely packed with the territory's recent demographic and resource data. Thanks to her [Arithmetic Mastery] Talent, every single number was flawlessly organized and transparent. Fina lowered her eyes to the data.

"The spoils of war we recently captured are incredibly abundant."

"You forged a connection with the merchant Thomas at Lone Cliff, and we now have the secret logistical pipeline personally promised by old General Rodman."

"As of right now, we can safely say that Greywater Village lacks absolutely nothing in terms of material wealth." She snapped the ledger shut and looked up, her gaze heavy.

"But this massive influx of resources has created a severe, severely deformed inversion in our development."

"Explain," Soren said, his brow rising slightly.

"We lack people." Fina's tone was pleadingly earnest.

"Our most critical strategic bottleneck has shifted from raw materials... to raw population!"

"Cultivating the acid-resistant [Swamp Tubers] requires a massive labor force of skilled farmers."

"Our [Geothermal Blast Furnaces] are running day and night, desperately trying to melt down and reforge the captured black iron armor!"

"But the goblins under Commander Luger's command are stretched to their absolute limits! Not only are they expected to man the forges and operate heavy machinery, but they are also serving as our third-line reconnaissance scouts. There simply aren't enough hands!" Without enough people manning the fires and swinging the hammers, they couldn't maintain a continuous output of weaponry! Without enough farmers to harvest the tuber crops, all the fertile mud in the world was completely useless!

"We only have seven hundred and thirty-six mouths to feed, my Lord," Fina sighed, an expression of utter helplessness crossing her face.

"Every single soul in this village is currently overworked. They have to undergo military training, and they have to farm. Aside from the completely bedridden, even the seven- and eight-year-old children are actively helping prepare meals just to keep the village running." Her razor-sharp assessment pierced directly to the absolute core of Soren's grand development plan.

Only a massive, ever-expanding demographic base could support both the expansion of his military forces and the vital industrial production required to arm them! With people, came infinite war potential. Soren slowly exhaled, staring at the flickering shadows cast by the crystal lamp.

"This is a problem. A very, very troublesome problem, Fina."