Chapter 16: Seek the Dragon, Divide the Gold, and Read the Encircling Mountains—Each Ringing Ridge Marks Another Barrier

The scorching sun beat down mercilessly upon the earth.

The group plucked broad leaves to shield themselves from the heat, resting under the shade of the trees. Fan Changlin handed over a water flask, his expression heavy with worry.

"Master Fan, the further we go, the deeper we get into the heart of the mountains."

As a native of Baimiao Village, Fan Jin had naturally heard whispers about this place. The mountain had no formal name, but it carried a notorious nickname: "Tiger Park." Rumors claimed that in years past, people had seen tigers descending from the peaks, and even on ordinary days, one could faintly hear beastly roars that sounded like tigers. The terrifying legends surrounding this mountain had been passed down for hundreds, if not thousands, of years—enough to stop a child’s crying, and enough to command even the most experienced hunters to treat it with awe.

Fan Jin silently took the flask, drank a mouthful, and gestured for his servants to distribute the dry rations among the group. He knew these villagers held little hope, but he refused to believe that this lush, verdant mountain lacked a water source. The situation had already become dire; how much worse could it possibly get?

"Everyone, hold on a little longer," Fan Jin said, encouraging them. "If I’m not mistaken, we are not far from a water source now. The vegetation in this area is noticeably greener than elsewhere on the mountain."

At that moment, Fan Jin deeply regretted that he was no master of geomancy or dragon-vein reading, merely someone with a rudimentary understanding of astronomy and geography. If he were a master, he could have recited the classic verses of "Tracing the Dragon and Dividing the Gold" with flair, pointing out the hidden water source with the ease of an immortal guiding the way.

...

Having accepted his favors, the villagers found it hard to complain. Seeing an opportunity, Fan Changlin suggested they find the hidden water source before sunset. The party pushed through the dense forest, soaked in sweat, until, just as the sun was about to dip below the horizon, someone cried out in surprise.

"Look, there are lotus roots here!"

Hearing this, the others rushed over. Fan Changlin scrambled over and, after a moment, panted, "It really is lotus root!"

The others were overjoyed, whispering excitedly. "Who would have thought there would be so many lotus roots here? How did no one notice this before?"

They were, of course, no strangers to lotus roots. Originally from India, they had been introduced to China long ago. By the Northern and Southern Dynasties, cultivation was already widespread, and the famously food-loving populace had developed methods for steaming, stir-frying, stewing, and grinding them into starch. In this era, lotus roots might be a rarity in the north, but in the south, they were common. Regardless, this vast area could surely produce tens of thousands of catties.

When Fan Jin received the news, he was just as happy for the villagers. These lotus roots would be a tremendous help; at the very least, they wouldn't have to worry about food for a while.

"Why would patches of lotus roots grow here?" As the villagers cheered, a thought crossed Fan Jin's mind. He was thinking deeper than the rest.

Fan Jin’s eyelids flickered. Suspecting something, he said in a low voice, "Bring the tools."

Hearing this, the village chief quickly realized what he meant: the water source must be nearby! He immediately ordered the people digging for lotus roots to stop and gather around Fan Jin.

Fan Changlin was trembling with excitement. "Master Fan, tell us what to do, we’ll follow your lead!"

Fan Jin nodded and gestured. He realized that this hidden marshland was situated in the low valley between two peaks, like the hump of a camel. No wonder it held water! Once he explained his reasoning, everyone had an epiphany. Fan Jin scanned the surroundings and fixed his gaze on a rock wall.

"Everyone, first clear away the brush and debris over there."

The men had been eager to act, and with his command, they worked with renewed vigor. Before long, someone let out an excited roar, "Water! It’s flowing, there really is running water here!"

As they spoke, some fell to their knees in ecstasy. Fan Changlin, the village chief, was trembling all over. "Baimiao Village is saved! Baimiao Village is saved..."

Fan Jin stepped forward, snatched a shovel, and widened the opening. A clear, cool spring surged from the ground, bubbling as it flowed along the terrain. Fan Jin scooped up a handful and drank it in one gulp; it was icy cold, refreshing his very soul. The exhausted men gathered around and drank their fill.

"Hahaha, Heaven does not abandon those who persevere!"

After they calmed down, Fan Jin said, "The urgent matter now is to think of a way to divert this running water down the mountain."

"Divert the water down the mountain?" The group stared in disbelief.

"Finding the source and solving the drinking water problem for people and livestock is far from enough," Fan Jin explained. "The rice is currently in the grain-filling stage, which is precisely when it needs water most. Diverting it now is perfect timing!"

In past years, this would have been near the harvest season. But with this year's abnormal climate and the prolonged drought, the village's rice was stunted and still in the grain-filling stage. In other words, there was still a chance to save the crop and minimize losses.

Fan Changlin frowned. Relying on manpower to carry water from such a distance was difficult enough for drinking, let alone for irrigating the fields. The farmers looked troubled. Fan Jin guessed their thoughts and didn't beat around the bush.

"I mean, we should dig a canal," he said directly. "Divert the water from the mountain to the fields to save the rice..."

"This..." The group looked at each other, feeling that it was almost absurd. To build a canal over a dozen miles of mountain terrain—what a massive undertaking! Even if they succeeded, for the water-starved rice, it might be too little, too late.

"I have calculated it, and the difficulty is not as great as you might imagine," Fan Jin explained. To one person, a dozen miles was a daunting figure, but if divided into small segments and assigned to every villager to work in coordination, the difficulty would diminish. Furthermore, as the spring water flowed, the hardened soil would soften, making the work twice as effective. The path is made by those who walk it; fear of difficulty is the greatest enemy.

His explanation brightened their faces. Although it sounded like a fantasy, upon reflection, it made perfect sense. They could start by digging a small trench and gradually widen it over time; perhaps, in the years to come, the mountain land on both sides of the canal would even become fertile fields. It was a beautiful prospect.

Seeing them waver, Fan Jin added, "I will have my steward take my petition to the county magistrate later and ask him to approve some gunpowder to help us speed up the excavation!"