Mike approached with a face full of excitement, his beard still speckled with coal dust, yet his entire demeanor was so spirited it seemed he could nearly fly.

"Lord Louis, you've finally come." He lowered his voice, but couldn't conceal the pride in his tone, "Lord Louis, the armor is ready."

In the center of the main hall, the space once piled with ores was completely cleared, and right in the center stood a tall prototype of the armor.

The surface shimmered with a gray-silver glint, the lines sharp but softened with craftsmanship.

Craftsmen and apprentices moved around it, some inspecting the joints, others adjusting valves, while someone was wiping the engravings on the breastplate with a cloth.

Neatly lined up against the wall were spare parts and material samples, clearly prepared for a full "Lord's inspection" process.

Mike couldn't suppress the pride in his expression: "Every requirement you mentioned, we meticulously trialed. I wouldn't dare say perfect, but... we feel it meets all your conditions.

I swear this is the most beautiful design since our workshop was established. I'm not bragging, but your sketch has true brilliance! If you weren't a lord, you could easily surpass others as a craftsman too!"

"You're exaggerating." Louis chuckled without saying much, simply remarked, "If this battle armor can truly be put to use, your efforts will certainly not be in vain."

"Then, my Lord, please give the order, and the fitting can begin."

Louis turned slightly and looked toward the young man not far away: "Weir, give it a try."

"Yes!" The young man answered, eyes full of anticipation, stepping forward briskly.

As Weir quickly removed his outer robe, several craftsmen stepped forward to assist him in donning the armor,

"Begin." Louis nodded slightly.

Weir swiftly drew his sword and stepped forward, his movements as agile as a falcon spreading its wings.

Meanwhile, Mike began his main demonstration.

"For the breastplate and arm guards, we used Cold Iron Ore mixed with Demon Beast Armor Scale." He said excitedly, "This material is impervious to blade or spear!"

Another tall, adult knight stepped forward, gripping his sword with both hands, his shoulders slightly lowering before delivering a powerful slash, the blade singing through the air toward Weir's shoulder.

"Clang—!!"

The crisp sound of metal hitting metal echoed in the main hall, sparks flew, but the armor merely vibrated slightly with no visible dent.

Weir stood firm, not retreating even a step, only shrugging his shoulders, "Feels strong."

The crowd let out gasps of surprise, while Mike stepped forward to pat the spot where the armor was struck, smiling satisfiedly.

"You see, sir, in terms of defense, it's no less than ordinary fine steel armor." He glanced subtly at Louis, "However, we reduced the thickness for lightness and breathability."

"Oh?" Louis raised an eyebrow, "So what to do?"

"I said, don't just look at the surface." Mike, while tapping the seams of the armor with his tools, patiently explained, "The external armor is made of Cold Iron, not relying on thickness to win. The real secret is in the lining."

He unclasped a small section of the arm guard, revealing the gray-blue fabric inside, woven like overlapping scales.

The inner armor woven with Secret Silver Silk not only absorbs impact but also evenly disperses the force. It doesn't look dented, but a strike like that on ordinary armor would have broken the soldier's shoulder."

Louis watched and nodded along, his gaze landing on the armor's joints: "And the mobility?"

"Don't worry!" Mike chuckled, as if he had anticipated this question, "Not only is it elastic, it's also heat and tear resistant."

Louis nodded, then gestured to Weir to continue.

Weir skillfully performed a forward roll, followed by a slide to the other end, rising with a flip.

"See, the joints are well-closed and move smoothly, right? We added action-locks, covered externally with rubber scales. Even hair can't poke through."

"The closure is indeed impressive." Louis rapped his knuckles against the armor plate at the waist, discerning by sound, "The feel is also steady."

"Not stuffy either!" Mike pointed at Weir, "Weir, run a few laps—yes, just like that!"

The young man ran while adjusting his breath, the armor opening and closing with a subtle sound of air flow.

Mike listened intently, as if he were hearing some sacred melody.

"Specially designed wind conduits that automatically adjust air ventilation! Paired with absorbent grass fiber cloth, no heat rash or mold. The humid diseases feared on the Northern Battlefield won't bother you inside this armor!"

Finally, he gestured for the craftsmen to step forward, removing Weir's right armor plate and swapping it with a spare part, the whole process taking less than ten seconds.

"The limbs feature quick-removal rivet designs, making battlefield part swapping as fast as building blocks."

"Excellent," Louis slowly nodded, his gaze landing on the entire set of armor, "This armor is even better than I anticipated."

Just after the final impact test was completed, Mike waved his hand toward the side: "Fire Wall, ready!"

Several craftsmen moved quickly, igniting the stone troughs prepared long before, causing blazing flames to roar up, forming a heated wall of fire.

The temperature twisted and surged in the air, making even the apprentices standing afar take a sharp breath.

"My lord, we mixed in the Fiery Oil, the temperature is at least four hundred degrees." Mike grinned wide.

Weir understood the test content, his eyes brightened; a young man always loves something thrilling.

He fastened his face mask, turned, and looked towards Louis: "My lord, may I try it?"

Louis nodded: "Go ahead. If you feel discomfort, retreat immediately."

"Understood!"

In the next moment, the young knight leapt forward, walking through the flames.

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