Chapter Forty-One: Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes, and Chili Peppers

"As a county magistrate, he actually dares to manufacture firearms in private. And these firearms look even more formidable than those of the Imperial Divine Machinery Battalion!"

Ge Rong left the county office, walking down the street. His stature was as tall and imposing as a grizzly bear, and the surrounding townsfolk instinctively parted ways to avoid him. His mind was fully occupied with memories of the "flintlock" blueprints he had just seen, and he remained struck with awe. Although he had grasped the general structure of the flintlock, the abundance of intricate technical data had been difficult to memorize in full. The other party was clearly wary, refusing to let him take the blueprints and insisting they would only be provided after the smelting plant was constructed.

"I recall that the Franks in Qiongzhou Prefecture possess these firearms that do not require a matchlock; I just wonder how they compare to this flintlock from Magistrate An's drawings. If I had possessed such a weapon back then, perhaps I would not have ended up living under an assumed name, making a living as a blacksmith."

As he recalled the past, a surge of anger welled up within him. A "buzzing" sound emanated from his sleeve, as if something were trying to burst out. Ge Rong took a deep breath, suppressing the fury in his heart, and the vibration beneath his cuff subsided.

A gust of wind blew, and the sky turned gloomy. It looked like rain.

An Xin stood on the steps, hearing a clap of thunder from the sky. Instantly, he subconsciously visualized the "Five Thunders Formula." The next moment, a continuous crackling sound filled the air, and small sparks of electricity exploded densely around him. His hair stood on end, the air around him grew viscous, and the lanterns hanging from the eaves swayed violently.

"Not good!"

An Xin hurried back into the room, fearing that his Five Thunders Formula might attract a lightning strike from the sky. It would be a miserable way to die if he were struck by lightning. Once inside, the electric arcs, resembling the sparks of a lighter, vanished.

"Although I lack the internal cultivation method to convert spiritual energy into the power needed to cast spells directly, when the density of a certain element in the environment is high, one can use mental power to trigger changes in the elements, exerting more power than usual."

An Xin drew his sword to discharge the static electricity from his body while pondering the phenomenon. This meant that the cultivation of Daoist arts and the casting of spells were unified with the natural environment—perhaps this was the concept of "Harmony between Man and Nature" proposed by the great thinkers of the pre-Qin era.

"Master, I've brought your meal."

Old Wang the cook, carrying an umbrella and damp with moisture, brought in a lacquer food box. He opened it, placing the dishes on the table layer by layer: a leek box, a pumpkin pancake, a plate of stir-fried mutton, a dish of mutton-stuffed intestines, a bowl of minced meat with eggplant, and a plate of fried eggs.

Pushing open the window, An Xin gazed at the pitter-patter of rain falling on green leaves and flower branches, sending up a mist of water. The autumn wind, mingled with moisture, blew into the room, bringing a refreshing chill.

After his meal, An Xin stopped Old Wang as he was clearing the dishes and asked, "How are the crops I told you to look after growing?"

Old Wang was delighted that An Xin had asked him. Although he was merely a cook in the county office, he had aspirations. As the saying went, the closer one was to the center of power, the better the prospects. He was just a cook, but the vegetable vendors had to cater to him. Cooking for the clerks and bailiffs meant he was well-versed in the ins and outs of the office, making things convenient. Such a life was already considered upper-middle class in the county. If he could find a way forward for his sons, it would be even better. And regardless of his current life or his sons' futures, it all depended on the Magistrate. Therefore, whatever the Magistrate ordered was of the utmost importance to him, especially since it was a matter the Magistrate frequently inquired about.

"Reporting to you, Master, the potatoes, sweet potatoes, and chili peppers have all sprouted. I water them, loosen the soil, and tend to them carefully every day. They are growing very well," Old Wang reported meticulously.

"Good." An Xin stood up and picked up an oil-paper umbrella. "Let's go take a look."

The autumn wind grew cooler, and the fine rain fell like silk.

"Master!" "My Lord!"

When An Xin arrived at the kitchen, many clerks and bailiffs were still eating. The room, previously buzzing with noise, fell silent instantly. One by one, they put down their bowls and chopsticks and stood up to pay their respects. An Xin nodded to them and went to the backyard with Old Wang, where he saw the lush, green seedlings growing in several large vats amidst the drizzle.

"Not bad." An Xin smiled and patted Old Wang on the shoulder. "Old Wang, the weather will turn cold next month. Clear out a few rooms with floor heating to use as a greenhouse, and move them inside once it gets cold. Take good care of them; these crops will be of great use to this county in the future."

Having been patted on the shoulder by the Magistrate, Old Wang felt as if his bones had lightened, and hearing the praise, his mouth stretched wide with joy. "Don't worry, Master, I will certainly take good care of these crops."

An Xin carefully inspected the leaves of the seedlings to ensure they were free of disease before leaving, satisfied. Old Wang saw it all, realizing how much the Magistrate valued these crops, and grew even more attentive. He called his eldest son, Wang Delu, over: "From now on, whenever you're not busy in the kitchen, you are to watch these. Don't let anyone touch them."

He thought for a moment, then leaned close to Wang Delu and whispered, "You're the one who manages the vegetable garden at home; learn well how to handle these... What did the scholars call it?"

"The Investigation of Things?"

Wang Delu had attended a private school for two years.

Old Wang nodded. "Yes, yes, that's it. Investigate them well, be diligent. If the Magistrate comes to check on these crops again, try to explain a thing or two to him."

Upon hearing this, Wang Delu's eyes lit up, and his heart surged with excitement. Seeing how much the Magistrate cared about these crops, perhaps he could truly catch the Magistrate's eye and reach the pinnacle of his life.

The fine, needle-like rain wove through the air, continuing until evening. With nothing to do, An Xin sat in the office of the second hall, lost in thought as he looked at the notes he had compiled. Before his laptop ran out of power, he had recorded many valuable things, including firearm blueprints, gunpowder formulas, and, after learning of the developed textile industry in Wuren County during his visits, the construction diagrams for the Spinning Jenny.

Everything was excellent, and most of it could be manufactured in the modern era. But he lacked people. Even as a magistrate, while he supported thousands of people who relied on the government, and governed the over one hundred thousand residents of the county, he could count his truly trustworthy and capable confidants on one hand. For now, An Xin could only screen personnel while cultivating talent, building a pool of loyal subordinates.

"The production of black powder is an urgent challenge. First, it requires raw materials like saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal. Charcoal is easy to get, saltpeter is not too difficult, but sulfur is relatively scarce. I must have someone investigate if there are sulfur mines in Wuren County or the surrounding areas. Second, there is no one familiar with this craft. Third, there is no safe site. Fourth, there is no secret and secure transport channel."

"Furthermore, I must quickly develop a stable and orderly source of revenue. This time, by suppressing bandits, I collected over 42,000 taels of silver from the gentry, merchants, and traders. Filling the deficit left by the previous magistrate took 10,000 taels. Recruiting soldiers has already cost nearly 2,000 taels, and adding food, clothing, weapons, and leather armor, it will cost at least another 7,000 to 8,000 taels. If I factor in the flintlocks, that amount will increase by another 2,000 to 3,000 taels. Relying solely on donations is not sustainable. In the future, if I want to research things, I will need to mobilize large amounts of manpower and spend vast sums of money."

Although there was a surplus of about 20,000 taels, the customary "ice tribute" and "charcoal tribute" in officialdom were indispensable. There were also numerous "corrupt practices" and "protocol gifts," and besides the "registered" clerks who received salaries from the imperial court, the vast number of other scribes and bailiffs were essentially eating at the government's expense, and it was An Xin who had to support them. Every day, the moment he opened his eyes, he saw vast amounts of silver flowing away.