Fang Er took back the steel ingot and steel rod from his hand.
The steel ingot was placed on the workbench, and its position was adjusted to ensure it was horizontal. Then, the steel rod was inserted into it.
Similarly, only a small portion could be inserted.
Fang Er released his hand and stepped aside.
Wait!
Mo Ming felt a sense of unease. He didn't understand why his teacher was doing this; it was obvious the steel rod was too thick to fit.
The artisans on the side also gathered around curiously.
One second, five seconds.
Ten seconds, twenty seconds.
Look! The steel rod went in a little!
An artisan exclaimed in surprise.
It really went in a bit!
Didn't it not fit in before? How did it go in by itself?
Don't rush, just wait slowly.
Fang Er sat aside with a composed demeanor, interrupting the discussions.
As time passed, the steel rod, at an imperceptible speed, slowly penetrated the hole.
The watching artisans could hardly believe their eyes.
It clearly wouldn't fit.
But now?
It wasn't until the end that the steel rod was completely submerged in the hole.
It all went in!
This is incredible!
The artisans felt their understanding shattered by this steel rod.
Look at that steel ingot!
An artisan pointed at the steel ingot on the workbench and shouted.
There wasn't a single gap!
Perfectly flush, as if it had never been touched!
Mo Ming's face turned pale. Just now, he had confidently declared the steel rod was too thick. Yet, it had gone in completely, and there was no trace of the gap between the rod and the hole on the surface!
This wasn't too thick.
It was just right, impossibly precise!
Now, do you still think the steel rod was too thick?
Fang Er asked Mo Ming, his gaze cold.
Teacher, this disciple was wrong.
In the early winter chill, fine sweat beaded on Mo Ming's forehead.
Where was the mistake?
This disciple was wrong for becoming arrogant with a little progress, and wrong for trusting his eyes too much.
Mo Ming knelt before Fang Er with a thud.
He had finally awakened.
The guide rails, lead screws, and sliders that the artisans made, he felt he could attempt to make himself in a few more days.
These were the most precise parts of the machine tools, and the things that demanded the highest precision he had ever seen.
However, he did not know that the strict requirements Fang Er set for these parts were actually relaxed.
Otherwise, with these artisans, it would be impossible to achieve the precision Fang Er required!
He had merely limited the precision to a safe range, to prevent accidental collisions or overly severe errors.
Just like the steel ingot and the inserted steel rod before them, these were far beyond the capabilities of these artisans.
At least, not in the short term.
Pride, complacency, look at that smug look on your face just now!
You've only just begun!
What makes you so smug? What right do you have to be smug?
Remember this, and all of you!
Fang Er's gaze, sharp as a blade, swept over the surrounding artisans.
What you are making now are machine tools!
An error from any of you will result in a large batch of defective products produced by these machines!
If firearms are substandard, they will jam, explode in the chamber, and become useless sticks on the battlefield. Soldiers who trained diligently will face the enemy's blades and become lambs to the slaughter!
How can you face the soldiers' trust?
Engines made with these machine tools might leak, seize, or even explode!
They could cost the driver's life at any moment!
How can you face their trust?
At this point, not only Mo Ming, but all the artisans lowered their heads.
Before, Fang Er had only mentioned that insufficient precision would lead to processing accidents.
They had never known that, in addition to processing accidents, there could be such terrifying consequences.
In an instant, the weight on their shoulders felt heavier than Mount Tai.
Duke, what should we do?
An artisan, his eyes reddened, asked Fang Er.
Precision! Use your greatest efforts to improve your processing precision!
Every part must be made a little more precise, and then a little more precise, ensuring the precision of each part.
Only in this way will the things you make be worthy of the trust of countless people!
This steel ingot will remain here. From now on, whoever can achieve this level will be a worthy master craftsman!
Become a master craftsman, and this Duke will guarantee you a lifetime of wealth and honor, and your descendants will be blessed!
The mention of "descendants will be blessed" moved all the artisans present!
Most of these artisans were originally from the Ministry of Works, exchanged by Du Yiyang. They had already shed their artisan status, but they never dared to dream of wealth and honor for their descendants.
They were just artisans, in essence no different from mud-molding or brick-carrying laborers, perhaps even less than laborers!
At least laborers only needed to fulfill their duties on time each year; the rest of the time they were free, but what about the artisan status?
Generational inheritance, passed from father to son, son to grandson, prohibiting any private production!
Duke, you, you, you speak the truth?
An artisan stammered, looking at Fang Er with evident longing in his eyes.
The artisan status passed down for tens of generations, and now not only was it shed, but their descendants could also become officials?
The other artisans, their eyes also red, looked at Fang Er like famished rabbits spotting fresh grass.
This Duke always keeps his word!
Above master craftsmen, there are Grand Artisans!
Whoever reaches the level of a Grand Artisan, this Duke will guarantee them a noble title.
In addition, they can establish their own schools, write books, and their names will be remembered for eternity!
At these words, the entire place fell into a deathly silence.
Nobility, eternal fame!
It was like a thunderclap echoing in the minds of the artisans.
The artisans were stunned, far more incredulous about what they were hearing now than the blessing of their descendants.
Nobility was hereditary!
Establishing a school was an even more unimaginable prospect!
Writing books was something even great scholars aspired to.
Fame for eternity, even the one in the Two Poles Hall would desire that, wouldn't he?
Do not doubt this Duke's words. As for the standards for Grand Artisans, you will be informed once a master craftsman emerges from among you.
Take a good think about what this Duke has said today, and about what you should do in the future!
Think, when you enjoy the company of your children in the future, your descendants will ask you.
Fang Er's tone unconsciously deepened at this point.
Why do other families have spacious houses and servants to command?
Why are other people's children born noble, with no worries about food or drink?
And your descendants have none of these! They have to toil, endure the sun, face the scorn and disdain of others, and climb up from the most humble corners step by step!
What will be your answer?
Will you tell your descendants that your father was just slacking off?
Are you not ashamed! Are you not embarrassed! How will you face your descendants?