Chapter 311: Are you still alive?

"Is this the legendary gun?" In the white, he stared at the painting on the paper and looked at it for a while. His expression looked awkwardly at McGonagall. No matter how he thought, he felt that this thing didn't look very serious. There is no way to imagine how to use this thing to throw things out.
McGonagall heard that he was staring at the piece of paper for a while. He hadn't mentioned the drawing drawings for many years and had degenerated into a soul-painting hand. This is really a bit of something...not good.
"This is a sketch. I will give you a detailed schematic." McGonagall turned a page and calmly sat down. He took a pencil in his hand and carefully painted it on paper.
McGonagall painted the white ink for the simplest artillery. It is almost the same level as the red cannon in the late Qing Dynasty. The large barrel and front-loading method are simple in principle and relatively easy to manufacture.
Of course, the most important thing is that the more advanced artillery McGonagall doesn't understand too much. It is really difficult for him to draw the schematic.
If it is not a problem to let him draw the schematic of the firearm, then he is familiar with it.
However, the manufacturing difficulty of firearms is not comparable to that of ordinary artillery. The various process requirements are extremely high. It is much more difficult to make a firearm with a more lethal force than to make a simple artillery. It is correct from simple to get started. The way to open.
After all, it was born in the class, and the man who could draw the drawings of the internal combustion engine by hand, seriously, it is not a problem to draw a simple artillery schematic.
"The principle of the artillery is actually very simple, but the lethality mainly depends on the explosives enclosed in the closed iron ball, the energy released by the explosion moment, which determines whether the bomb can kill a dragon, the specific principle... ..." Meg, while painting, explained the principle of the artillery projectiles.
Ink white is also a suspicion from the beginning, slowly becoming convinced, eyes are getting brighter and brighter, expressions are more and more adored, as if they were opened to the door of the new world.
"The specific principle is probably like this. The most important and most important thing is to make the artillery. The strength of the gun body determines the effective range of the gun. You are a blacksmith. You should know this better than me." In the hand of the pen, three standard fire papers have appeared on the paper, and the manufacturing process has been detailed.
"Mc boss, you must be a genius." Ink white stared at the drawing for a while, looked up at Meg, his eyes full of praise.
McGonagall's cooking has conquered his stomach, and the genius idea that he is now showing is completely convincing.
If the explosives he unintentionally tested is a novel discovery, then McGonagall's idea is to make this novelty directly feasible for use.
Using the huge energy generated by the intense burning of gunpowder to push the projectile explosives out, creating a confined space with a semi-closed long tubular barrel, and at the same time giving the gun a controllable running direction, this is a genius idea!
"I am not a genius, I just know a little more." Maggie smiled and shook his head. It seemed that he understood his meaning. As for the extent of the artillery he could make, it wasn’t Meg. It is estimated that it will take a lot of time to get the gun barrel that meets the standard.
And before there is no solution to the problem of gunpowder stability, there is no way to proceed.
As a man who can make his own bullets, McGonagall has a lot of research on the ratio of gunpowder, but the method of adding the power of the Warcraft crystal powder to enhance the explosive power in the gunpowder is simply black technology.
This allowed McGonagall to stop the urge to make suggestions. Without the limitations of fixed thinking, he might indeed be able to make a powerful and explosive explosive.
After all, it is a different world. The bullets made by ordinary gunpowder are difficult to break even the ordinary World of Warcraft. It is also that McGonagall feels that even if a hot weapon appears in this world, it is difficult to change the world. After all, a powerful fire magic. The teacher can use it better than a gun.
But the magic crystal powder that came out of the white ink made McGonagall see some possibility, whether it was a powerful bomb or using them in a firearm. After a huge energy concentration broke out, it might be possible to produce a dragon. Threat.
"Integral casting, and the need to be able to withstand the extent of the previous explosion, it is not a simple matter to make such a gun body, but I will study it." Ink white put away two sheets of paper on the table I got up and looked at McGonagall seriously.
"Polite, but I still hope that the test about the explosion will not be done at home in the future, otherwise it will be a little insecure to live next to it." Meg smiled and shook his head, not forgetting to remind him again.
According to the principle of gradual death, the degree of death will gradually increase with each death, and McGonagall does not want to be bombed in the sky one day.
"No, it won't be in the future." Ink white quickly waved.
"Ink-white boss? Are you still alive?" At this moment, a sounding call came out from the outside.
"The people who repaired the house are coming, Mai boss, I went first. I am really sorry about today." In white, he glanced at the door and was a little sorry.
"Okay." McGonagall nodded. He didn't say anything more. He said it was a neighbor, and White was the first guest in the restaurant.
"The magic gun may be very interesting." McGonagall looked at the back of the white ink, and his mouth slightly provoked. Suddenly he looked forward to a white cannon pulling a cannon and a scene of a dragon in the sky. .
Putting the book and the cup on the table, McGonagall turned to the kitchen, tied the apron, and began to prepare the various ingredients needed for breakfast.
When holding the kitchen knife, McGonagall felt that the whole right hand had a feeling of numbness from the finger to the shoulder. The high-intensity exercise last night had a little effect on the body, but the benefits were obvious, and the sensitivity and reaction of the body were all improve.
After cutting two knives, Meg suddenly stopped his hand, looked at the kitchen knife in his hand, and looked at the chicken legs on the chopping board. He thought in his heart: "The most common thing to repeat every day is to cut vegetables and cook, and repeat each movement. Thousands of times, if you can integrate the sword into it, you can't do it twice?"
"Hey." McGonagall stepped back halfway, his mouth whispered, the kitchen knife swayed down, the chicken legs were broken, and the cuts were flat, leaving only a shallow knife mark on the cutting board.
"It's okay, the control of the force needs to be strengthened." McGonagall nodded slightly, and the kitchen knife again swayed out. The speed was getting faster and faster, and the chicken became a piece of diamond-shaped small square under the knife.
The angle and intensity of the knife-cutting are somewhat different from those of the past, but as time goes by, the deliberateness from the beginning has gradually become more proficient, and the speed is getting faster and faster. Almost only a golden light is flashing. The whole chicken leg becomes a uniform piece.