Chapter 746: Closing doors to draft blueprints, creating divine artifacts; testing plows in mud to win over craftsmen

In the back hall of the Xia Prefecture Governor's Office, all attendants and maids were unusually dismissed.

Chen Yan strode into the study, shut the heavy wooden door behind him, and dropped the arm-thick bolt into place.

Even Gao Jiong, who usually followed him like a shadow, was nailed to the steps below by his cold, ruthless gaze.

"Without my order, anyone who dares approach the study by half a step shall be executed without mercy."

This resolute command rang out from within the room.

Zhu Yi immediately drew the long sword at his waist, standing before the tightly shut door like a temple guardian.

Inside the dim secret chamber, Chen Yan lit the multi-branched bronze lamps on the desk.

He laid a seven-foot-long sheepskin scroll flat across the wide desk.

He knew well that the hidden fields surrendered by the powerful clans only solved the difficulty of collecting taxes.

But this yellow earth was severely compacted; relying solely on those backward straight-shaft plows, the yield could never support his ambition to build up Xia Prefecture as his power base.

To achieve a true dimensionality-reduction strike, he had to create the divine artifact from his past life's memories that changed the entire landscape of ancient agriculture.

That was the curved-shaft plow.

Chen Yan closed his eyes, rubbing his brow forcefully as he frantically searched his mind for those complex and tedious mechanical blueprints.

Half an incense stick later, he opened his eyes, his gaze bloodshot from excessive mental exertion, and the charcoal pencil in his grip pressed heavily onto the rough sheepskin.

As the first stroke fell, a dull scratching sound echoed in the silent chamber. Relying on the complex mechanical construction diagrams from his past life, Chen Yan rapidly sketched the first highly subversive curved arc on the paper.

It was not the long, straight wooden pole familiar to the farmers of this world, but a short shaft, shortened by half, with a peculiar curvature.

Chen Yan exerted force from his suspended wrist, the charcoal pencil turning in his fingertips as he followed the arc downward, beginning to dismantle the plowshare structure, the very core of this divine artifact.

This curved surface had to perfectly match the mechanical stress point of turning soil; one part too much and the resistance would be too great, one part too little and the soil would not turn over. He pressed his forehead almost against the sheepskin, sweat sliding down his temples and dripping onto the edge of the desk, blooming into a water stain.

Three days and three nights of time passed quietly amidst the dim candlelight and the discarded waste paper scattered across the floor.

The wick in the bronze lamp crackled, and as the last drop of oil was consumed, Chen Yan finally threw the charcoal pencil into the brush washer, using his calloused fingertips to gently smooth out the wrinkles on the drawing.

The heavy solid wood door gave a stiff, muffled sound as it swung open to both sides, and blinding sunlight poured into the secret chamber.

Zhang Wenqian had been waiting outside the steps for three full days. Hearing the movement, he hurried forward, receiving with both hands the roll of sheepskin Chen Yan handed him, which emitted a strong scent of ink and a hint of sweat.

"Take this. Within two hours, gather the most skilled blacksmiths and carpenters in Xia Prefecture and bring them secretly to the back courtyard of the Governor's Office."

Chen Yan rubbed his throbbing temples, his chapped lips colliding to issue a weary but non-negotiable military order.

Feeling the heavy weight of the sheepskin in his arms, Zhang Wenqian bowed his head in compliance and retreated quickly, not even having time to see what profound mystery was drawn on the paper.

Less than half an hour later, chaotic hoofbeats and footsteps echoed through the streets and alleys of Xia Prefecture City.

The Embroidered Attire Envoys of the Mingjing Si swarmed out, swords at their waists, breaking into every blacksmith shop and carpentry workshop. Without a word, they blindfolded the craftsmen with black cloth and shoved them roughly into sealed carriages.

When these old craftsmen, who had never seen an official in their lives, had their blindfolds ripped off, their legs had already turned to jelly.

They looked around in terror, finding themselves in an extremely wide and enclosed courtyard. Every three steps stood a guard, every five steps a sentry. Fully armed soldiers in heavy armor stood with swords drawn, reflecting a chilling, cold light, and the air was filled with a suffocating scent of blood and killing intent.

Chen Yan had changed into a narrow-sleeved martial outfit convenient for movement, striding into the courtyard, his leather boots striking the blue stone floor with a steady, powerful rhythm.

He ignored the craftsmen kneeling on the ground, trembling, and walked straight to the wooden frame in the center of the courtyard, personally hanging and unfolding the seven-foot-long curved-shaft plow diagram.

"Hold back your tears and open your eyes wide to see the structure on this."

He turned to look down at this group of trembling artisans, his tone carrying an irresistible pressure, forcing them to focus their attention on the complex diagram.

Several bold old craftsmen helped each other forward. At first, they were full of fear, but when their eyes touched the peculiar wooden mortise-and-tenon structure and the iron parts, professional instinct made them temporarily forget the blades at their necks.

One of them, an old carpenter named Lu, over sixty years old, whose ancestors had been master craftsmen in the Imperial Court's Lesser Treasury, traced the lines on the diagram with his withered fingers, his brows gradually knitting into an unsolvable knot.

Relying on a lifetime of immersion in woodworking, the stubbornness in his bones overcame his fear of power, and he actually knelt before Chen Yan with a thud, risking his life.

"Lord Zhuguo, please calm your anger. This commoner dares to speak bluntly: this diagram is truly absurd, and there is absolutely no possibility of building anything practical."

The old craftsman's shriveled lips trembled violently as he pointed to the short plow shaft on the diagram, his hoarse voice appearing particularly abrupt in the deathly silent courtyard.

The dozen or so craftsmen beside him were scared out of their wits; some even wet their pants, frantically tugging at Old Carpenter Lu's hem, desperately signaling him, terrified that Chen Yan, the notorious 'Living Yama', would behead them all.

"This plow shaft has been cut in half; there isn't even a long, straight wooden pole to bear the force. If you really hitch an ox to it to plow the fields, it won't be able to suppress that brute force at all."

Old Carpenter Lu shook off his companion's hand, deciding to risk it all, pouring out all the doubts he had been holding in his stomach.

"The front end can't hold the force, and this plowshare will definitely tilt up to the sky. Even if this thing is built, it will just be a pile of rotten wood; it won't be able to turn over the hard yellow earth of Xia Prefecture at all."

The surrounding Embroidered Attire Envoys, hearing such disrespectful words, immediately stepped forward in unison, their hands tightening on their hilts with a series of metallic scraping sounds, ready to let the old man's head roll at any moment.

Chen Yan raised his hand to stop the murderous guards. On that angular face, there was not a hint of rage; instead, a faint, inscrutable smile bloomed.

He did not use his power to suppress these harsh words of honest advice, because he knew better than anyone that for craftsmen with real skill, only by completely crushing them in their professional field could he make them serve him wholeheartedly.

"Go and bring a basin of prepared moist clay, and get a set of ready-made carving knives, soft wooden strips, and high-quality thin iron sheets."

Chen Yan casually took off his jade hair crown and threw it to Gao Jiong beside him, letting his long hair drape over his shoulders, rolling up his brocade sleeves to reveal his sturdy, powerful forearms.

In the eyes of everyone, shocked to the point of near-stupor, this Chen Zhuguo, who held the power of life and death over millions in Xia Prefecture, sat cross-legged on the dust-covered blue stone floor of the courtyard without any airs.

He picked up a sharp willow-leaf carving knife. As the blade turned, wood shavings flew from a strip of soft wood in his hand, quickly carved into a smooth arc.

Chen Yan's hands seemed to produce afterimages. Relying on the physics principles carved into his bones, he skillfully used pliers to bend the thin iron sheets, fitting them into the slots of the soft wood, every mortise-and-tenon joint fitting perfectly.

In less than half an hour, under the suspicious gaze of this group of experts, a miniature model of the curved-shaft plow, exquisite and identical to the diagram, appeared in his palm.

A servant brought a wide clay tray filled with moist clay and placed it before Chen Yan. The soil was pressed flat and firm, simulating the terrain of a farm field.

Chen Yan gently placed the exquisite wooden model on the surface of the clay, turned his head to look at Old Carpenter Lu, who was still kneeling on the ground, and extended his slender index finger, steadily hooking the short shaft at the front of the model, which the old craftsman had declared useless.

"The old rule: see through it but don't say it. Just watch carefully and see if this thing will really tilt up to the sky."

His finger exerted a slight force backward, dragging the model forward at a steady speed through the clay tray, the wooden gears emitting an extremely faint clicking sound.

The miracle happened right before everyone's eyes at this moment. The iron plowshare with its peculiar arc, like a red-hot blade cutting into butter, broke through the firm clay without any resistance.

The soil chunks that were turned over followed the perfect stress-bearing curve of the plowshare; far from accumulating or clogging, they turned over neatly to one side, leaving behind a deep, wide, and perfect furrow.

What made the craftsmen's scalps tingle even more was that when the model reached the edge of the clay tray, Chen Yan only lightly flicked the plow handle at the rear with his fingertip, and the entire model completed a smooth, in-place turn, not occupying even a bit of extra space.

Not only was the force extremely stable with no sign of tilting up, but its smoothness in deep plowing completely shattered the common knowledge these craftsmen had accumulated over decades.

The courtyard was so silent that only the heavy, rapid breathing of dozens of people could be heard; even the sound of wind blowing fallen leaves was clearly audible.

Old Carpenter Lu widened his muddy, bloodshot eyes, cold sweat rolling down his forehead like a waterfall, soaking the blue stone floor before him.

He ignored the pain in his knees, scrambling forward to the clay tray, his calloused hands trembling as they hovered over the model, not daring to touch it, fearing to desecrate this masterpiece that did not belong to the human world.

"Deep plowing, easy turning, short shaft for leverage, and it can even adjust depth. This structure clearly borrows the clever force of heaven and earth!"

The old craftsman choked, muttering to himself. His stubborn spine completely bent, and he knocked his head heavily into the mud, roaring with a broken voice, tears streaming down his face.

"A divine object has descended to the world! This is a divine object that could only be conceived by stealing the secrets of creation! This commoner was blind and ignorant; I beg Lord Zhuguo for forgiveness!"

The other craftsmen also knelt down in a clatter. The gaze they turned toward Chen Yan had already shed its initial fear, replaced by a fanatical worship, as if facing a god. ===== CHAPTER 747 =====