Chapter 639: [Wing Armor Calamity] (Part 1)

Hu Xiaotian was never a patriot who worried for the country and the people; who ruled the world meant nothing special to him, especially to those of the same lineage and ethnicity, it was even more indifferent. What he wanted was freedom and ease, an unfettered life, but facing reality he gradually realized his earlier notions upon coming to this world were too idealistic. The distance between court and jianghu was not as far as imagined; it was actually like the distance between his thatched hut and the hot spring outside his door. One cannot forever shut oneself in a fixed environment while living in the world; one must learn to adapt to and change that environment.

A soft knock sounded at the door; it was Zong Yuan summoning him. Hu Xiaotian rose from bed and followed the attendant toward the Sword Hut.

Night had fallen over Purple Cloud Mountain; though the mountain wasn't tall, it felt close to the sky, with stars glittering across the night sky like black velvet, as if one could reach out and touch them.

The Sword Hut had two large kilns, left dragon right tiger, implying the hidden meaning of crouching tiger, coiling dragon; the one Hu Xiaotian went to was the Dragon Kiln. The kiln was elongated, built along the slope of Purple Cloud Mountain from bottom to top, resembling a dragon or snake, hence its name. The kiln interior consisted of three parts—kiln head, kiln bed, kiln tail—built along the mountain's slope into a long tunnel-shaped furnace. The kiln head had a preheating chamber; the kiln tail usually lacked a chimney or had a very short one, since the Dragon Kiln itself served as a chimney. The kiln was about fifty zhang long; the kiln head was smallest, facilitating heat concentration at the start of firing, aiding combustion; the middle was largest, and the kiln tail was larger than the head but smaller than the middle. The vaulted ceiling was arched, with multiple rows of watermelon-sized fire-loading holes on the upper sides or kiln top, and the kiln sides had two kiln doors. When operating the Dragon Kiln, after loading the greenware inside the kiln chamber and sealing all kiln doors, one first fired the kiln head, then added firewood from front to back in sequence, firing row by row.

Hu Xiaotian had seen the Dragon Kiln used to fire ceramics before, but he never expected it could be used here for mass-producing ironware; however, his instruments were not forged inside it.

On the west side of the Dragon Kiln stood a workshop, where the constant clanging of metal filled the air. Hu Xiaotian followed the attendant inside, only to see Zong Tang bare-chested, swinging an iron hammer as he forged before the furnace.

The Demon Artisan Zong Yuan squatted on a chair not far away, holding a dry-smoking pipe in his right hand, puffing clouds and mist. In his left hand he held something unknown, leaning over to examine it in the lamplight.

The furnace flames blazed, illuminating each artisan's face with extraordinary clarity; the laboring men had knotted muscles, which stood out even more in the fire's glow, like cast-iron statues.

Hu Xiaotian approached the Demon Artisan Zong Yuan and clasped his hands in greeting. Zong Yuan took a big puff of smoke, then tapped his pipe on the stool and shouted, "Sir Hu, come take a look."

Hu Xiaotian walked over. What Zong Yuan held in his hand was actually a tiny screw; he secretly sighed, inadvertently exposing this technique, wondering what it would bring to the present age. Zong Yuan said: "This little item has cost us considerable effort, and even now we cannot make it perfect. Sir Hu, what is this called?"

Hu Xiaotian saw no need to hide it: "A screw!"

"A screw?"

Hu Xiaotian smiled and said: "Look at the pattern on it, the helical threads, like the ridges on a snail's back; that's why I gave it this name."

Zong Yuan said: "Good name, truly fitting! A screw!"

Hu Xiaotian asked: "Master Zong, have you already solved this problem?"

Zong Yuan replied: "I was thinking that if we could drill holes of the same diameter at the parts of ironware that need to be joined, and then fasten them with screws, wouldn't that greatly speed up the craft? Moreover, we could produce screws of various sizes according to different needs."

Hu Xiaotian secretly sighed; this was truly a great gift to Zong Yuan. Once he mastered the screw-making technique, Zong Yuan's forge would undergo a fundamental leap, likely advancing the craftsmanship of all Da Yong. If they popularized it across all trades, Da Yong's industrial development would become limitless, and he had unintentionally done a great service to Da Yong.

In fact, it was not just the screw; the set of diagrams Hu Xiaotian drew, though only some surgical instruments, had also been refined and improved over the long history of medical development, each instrument being a crystallization of industrial design, and Zong Yuan benefited greatly from producing them.

Zong Tang brought over the partially finished instruments for Hu Xiaotian to inspect; as he picked them up one by one, the title "Demon Artisan" proved well deserved—each piece was flawless.

Hu Xiaotian suddenly recalled something: to operate on Prince Yan Xue Shengjing and avoid infection, he needed a crucial item—gloves. Since the Demon Artisan was present, he might as well ask him for a solution. After Hu Xiaotian finished speaking, in Zong Yuan's understanding he needed a thin, tightly protective glove. Zong Yuan said: "What's the difficulty? I'll make a mold of your hand and then produce a few pairs of leather gloves."

Hu Xiaotian knew the chemical industry of this era was practically blank, so naturally there would be no latex gloves; even though Zong Yuan bore the title of Demon Artisan, his conceptual range was rather narrow—leather gloves were just leather gloves, but some protection was better than none.

Thus, following Zong Tang to have his hand molded, he had just finished making the mold when a tremendous explosion rang out, shaking heaven and earth; the violent vibration knocked many artisans to the ground, and the weapons hanging above the workshop clattered down.

Zong Tang reacted immediately, rose to look for his father, and Hu Xiaotian followed. The blast had not occurred inside the workshop; outside, panicked voices cried, "The kiln exploded! The kiln exploded!"

The Demon Artisan Zong Yuan was also knocked to the ground by that blast; nearby artisans promptly helped him up, and Zong Tang and Hu Xiaotian came to his side. Usually steady, Zong Yuan now looked flustered, crying out, "Quick… quick, go see what happened!" In fact, from that explosion he already guessed what had occurred, but deep down he still hoped it hadn't.

Zong Tang supported his father as they headed outward; after a brief panic, a group of artisans had fully regained composure, escorting the Demon Artisan and his son in an orderly retreat. At that moment no one paid attention to Hu Xiaotian's presence, so he simply followed the crowd outside.

Just as they reached the door, they heard an even more violent explosion, ringing in everyone's ears; some were temporarily deafened by the tremendous shock.

Stumbling through the aftermath, the crowd burst out of the workshop's main gate. Looking ahead, they saw both great kilns of the Sword Hut—the Dragon Kiln and the Tiger Kiln—already swallowed by a sea of fire. Witnessing this, the Demon Artisan Zong Yuan let out a heart-rending wail, his vision darkening as he nearly fainted; fortunately Zong Tang caught him in time. Zong Tang's eyes were bloodshot, his heart filled with extreme grief and anger, for the Sword Hut was his father's lifework. Not to mention the ironware being forged in the dragon and tiger kilns, the artisans alone numbered over a hundred; judging from the horrific scene, the casualties were unknown.

Zong Tang still kept his composure, shouting loudly, "Brothers, hurry and rescue the people!" Only then did the crowd snap to, spreading the word and scattering to find firefighting tools.

At that moment a heavy black cloud blanketed the sky, covering the stars and moon; when the crowd looked up, they saw it was not dark clouds but a multitude of bats, blotting out the sky and moon, emitting a terrifying shriek as they suddenly swooped down upon the people below.

Zong Tang roared, "Grab your weapons, retreat to the armory cave!"

Although the Sword Hut held many weapons, few of the artisans were skilled in using them. Tens of thousands of bats madly dove, chasing and biting the people on the ground. Zong Tang and three artisans wielded knives and shields, hacking at the bats that kept swooping from the air while using their shields to shield Zong Yuan as they retreated.

Hu Xiaotian picked up a torch and a shield; facing the omnipresent bats, staying to fight would be futile. Fortunately he had the Dog-Dodging Eighteen Steps; he used the shield to guard his head, his steps light and shifting left and right, appearing and disappearing unpredictably, constantly shaking off the pursuing bats. Unfamiliar with the local terrain, he simply followed the Zong father and son, going wherever they went.

These artisans had originally wanted to go to the exploded kiln site to rescue people, but faced with the sky‑covering bats they could barely look after themselves, let alone tend to the wounded.

The so‑called armory cave was the weapons depot of the smithy, located about two hundred steps from their present position; although not far, the bats' frantic assault made their steps difficult.

Under the crowd's protection, the Demon Artisan Zong Yuan gradually neared the armory cave; two artisans reached it first, one covering while the other fumbled with the lock, so nervous that the key would not go into the keyhole at first.

Zong Tang shouted, "Hurry!"

At that moment a dazzling fire‑streak arced down from the sky, striking the armory cave's door; it hit the artisan in the back of the heart, then burst with a loud "peng!"—flesh and blood flew, and the artisan's arm rolled to Zong Yuan's feet, still clutching the key.

Seeing this, Zong Yuan stared wide‑mouth, his legs going weak, nearly collapsing to his knees.

Looking up, the crowd saw two black‑armored warriors in the sky, wings unfurled, their metallic wings glinting with a deep sheen in the darkness. One held an iron bow, the very arrow just fired; the other gripped a twelve‑foot spear, his bronze mask's eyeholes revealing a cold gaze fixed on Zong Yuan in the crowd. The wings shifted angle, then suddenly dove downward; the spear tip flashed with a cold light like a comet streaking across the heavens, aiming straight for Zong Yuan's chest. (To be continued~^~)