Louis squinted his eyes for a moment, then shook his head slightly: "It’s not unusable... but it’s too complicated, not cost-effective enough. The high temperature and duration aren’t enough to match the rarity of the Fire Scale Ointment."
Hillco shrugged, spreading his hands: "You know, my lord, apart from Magic Burst, I’m not very interested in other weapons. How about... you think and I’ll do it?"
Upon hearing this, Louis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he lowered his head and remained silent for a moment, his gaze falling on the charred ground left behind by the spent Fire Scale Ointment.
The residual heat still lingered in the air like an unsettled battlefield.
He began to piece together various fragments of inspiration and images in his mind.
Suddenly, Louis lifted his head, a spark of inspiration flashing in his eyes.
"What if it’s not splashed," he murmured to himself, "but... directly sprayed?"
He thought of the discarded weapons from his previous life.
Not throwing an explosive, but a flame attack at close range, with continuous spraying.
A flame held in hand, like a released fire serpent, consuming everything it pointed at.
The struggling limbs of insect corpses twisted and deformed mid-air, forced out, twisted, and carbonized by the high temperature.
Yes, that’s the flamethrower.
In an instant, Louis already had a rough conceptual design in his mind.
Hillco blinked, asking with a suspicious look: "Spray... out?"
"Yes," Louis’ eyes turned sharp, his tone resolute, "Using the viscosity and high ignition point of the Fire Scale Ointment, combined with a pressurized spraying system, to create a controllable flame path."
Saying this, he already picked up paper and pen, his wrist flying as he sketched a simple and clear structural diagram on the parchment.
"This side is the main tank, used to hold the Fire Scale Ointment... You can think of it as an alchemical super petroleum, its ignition temperature can break through 600 degrees, and it can burn continuously in any environment."
"The other tank is for compressed gas, like a powerful air pump, not to ignite, but to ’spray the petroleum out.’"
"The petroleum is ’pushed’ by the compressed gas from behind, sprayed through a metal duct to the front nozzle."
"The nozzle should have an igniter inside, like striking flint. Pressing the trigger sparks it. The oil sprays out, the spark ignites, and it becomes a real flame tongue."
Hearing this, Hillco, who initially seemed indifferent, became focused, unable to help but click his tongue softly: "...My lord, you sure dare to think big."
"Don’t just stand there watching," Louis slapped the blueprint into his hand, "This requires your cooperation in formulating a special Fire Scale Ointment mix, not too thin or too thick. It has to spray out and stick to targets without falling off. Can you do it?"
Hillco took the blueprint, glanced over it carefully, then shrugged and smirked: "Don’t worry, my lord, this is too simple. I can whip it up for you quickly."
"Great." Louis turned to look at Mike.
"High temperature, persistent, controllable, propulsion type..."
The old craftsman stared gravely at the blueprint, his beard lightly trembling, yet a growing gleam of eager anticipation appeared in his eyes.
In a rough voice, he said: "Lord... your mind is truly terrifying."
He paused, then grinned, "But I love it. I love the stuff that comes out of a great mind like yours!"
"Thank you for your effort," Louis said softly, "We might need it soon. Mike, you might have to be busier for a while. Of course, I won’t shortchange you in the future."
Mike straightened his back, his sturdy hand patting his chest: "Just say the word, and I’ll work myself to death!"