"But, Uncle Marcus," Ethan said, his voice ringing with newfound conviction, "why must we force the soldiers to adapt to the guns? If the hands cannot be changed, then we change the guns."
Ethan pointed at Zhang's blocky, rectangular forearm.
"The structure of living beings in that realm is governed by rigid rules, but the weapons of the physical world are built by us. No fingers to pull a trigger? Then we eliminate the trigger. Have the Military Research Division swap the firing mechanisms to pressure-sensitive plates or neural-link triggers."
Ethan's eyes gleamed as the ideas flowed. "As long as the palm block senses gripping pressure, the weapon fires. The hand is too square for a traditional stock? Then redesign it. Give it a grooved clasp or a sleeve-style mount, allowing the soldier's arm to slide directly into the chassis and lock in place like a modular exoskeleton."
Ethan's words were like sunlight breaking through a thick fog. Zhang stood frozen for a moment, stunned by the simplicity of the solution.
Then, the Villager looked up and let out a series of strange, braying sounds.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
The nasal honks of the Villager were comical, but they carried a sense of sudden, bold enlightenment.
"You're damn right! I was overthinking it," Zhang shouted, looking at his square arm with fervent intensity. He could already see it: an army of indestructible block-soldiers. "How can a veteran be stifled by something so trivial? Who needs fingers?"
"Since this is a national-level operation, let the old sharks in military production get moving. I want a dedicated Block Weapon System custom-built for these entities. I'm issuing the order the moment I'm back in my skin. Three days—no, within twenty-four hours—I want the first assault rifle that these square hands can wield."
With the "Block Weapon" concept finalized, Ethan knew the hardest part of the negotiation was over. He looked at Zhang, who was still excitedly testing the weight of his blocky limbs.
"Uncle Marcus, since we have a plan, let's get the personnel organized. My suggestion is to avoid a full rollout immediately. I need a small team to enter the Minecraft World with me first. We need to replicate basic Redstone infrastructure: the Iron Farm, the Automatic Poultry Cooker, and the Villager Breeder."
"Troops shouldn't march until the logistics are set. Once we have secured infinite resources, we arm the first Special Forces unit. Simultaneously, we can dispatch an elite scout team through the portal into the Other World for reconnaissance."
A trace of lingering apprehension flashed in Ethan's eyes.
"I've attempted to scout that world before. But because I only had a basic sword, I was swarmed by monsters and 'respawned' quite a few times. I don't have a clear picture of their combat power yet. We need professionals."
"Agreed. No problem," Zhang replied.
With a thought, Ethan severed the connection.
Buzz!
The dull-witted Villager slumped instantly, then dissipated into a plume of white smoke.
Back in the chair, Marcus Zhang's body trembled. His eyes snapped open. He subconsciously raised his hands, staring at his calloused palms and flexible fingers with a momentary sense of unreality. The ghost of that blocky constraint still lingered in his nerves.
He clenched his fists, letting out a long, grounding breath.
"There's no need to wait on the arrangements," Zhang said, standing up and smoothing his uniform. His eyes were profound as he looked toward the door. "Prime Minister Lee and the Council heard everything. Knowing the Prime Minister's decisiveness, the orders were likely signed while we were still mid-test."
He looked at Ethan with a hint of genuine encouragement. "Let's go, Ethan. The Prime Minister wants to see you personally."
At the mention of the Prime Minister, Ethan—who had been speaking with the confidence of a king—felt his breath hitch.
Meeting General Zhang was one thing, but meeting the man who led the entire Federation? As a person who had lived two lives, that ingrained sense of awe was impossible to shake.
In truth, Ethan was a transmigrator.
In his previous life, he had been an obsessive Minecraft Redstone engineer. In his dictionary, Villagers weren't people—they were trading interfaces. Iron Golems weren't protectors—they were "White Zombies" to be harvested. Exploiting NPCs and industrializing the world via automated assembly lines was the only way to play.
Eighteen years ago, he had been reborn into this parallel world. History, culture, and technology were almost identical to Earth, with one glaring exception: Minecraft did not exist.
His childhood had been agonizingly boring without his blocks. It wasn't until three days ago that his System awakened, granting him a literal Minecraft World.
He had briefly considered being a lone wolf, but reality had been a harsh teacher. Without powerful mods, he had tried to possess a Zombie and been hacked to pieces; he'd tried a Skeleton and been shot out of the sky.
Ethan took a deep, steadying breath. I have the world. The nation has the power. This is a win-win.
"Let's go, Uncle Marcus."
Ethan regained his composure and followed Zhang out of the room that had just altered the course of human history.
The Citadel Council Chamber
The air was thick enough to choke on. The only sound was the faint hum of a projector.
On the massive screen, the footage of Ethan and Zhang's experiment had just finished playing. Seven Elders sat around the table—men whose names could move markets and shift borders with a single word.
Normally, these men wouldn't flinch if a mountain collapsed in front of them. But now, every single one was visibly shaken.
"The entire nation ascending... everyone a dragon..."
One Elder took off his glasses, his hands trembling as he wiped the lenses. "Has the stuff of myths truly been dropped into our laps?"
A battle-scarred veteran next to him slammed his fist onto the table, his eyes burning. "What's impossible about it? We saw the matter-creation and the soul-transfer with our own eyes. This is genuine power!"