Chapter 1101: Johann Adam Schall von Bell's Letter (10)

I suppressed the excitement in my heart, then inquired about Zhao Jin's current whereabouts — he was inspecting the workshop where armor was manufactured.

Although I did not frequent that workshop much in the ordinary course of things, I knew its location, having been here so long.

I patiently waited for a while, waiting for Director Xu to honor his promise and send someone to escort us for an audience with Zhao Jin. Yet, after a long wait, the messenger to summon me still had not arrived.

The excitement in my heart slowly turned into anxiety. In this stuffy, sweltering place, sweat streamed down ceaselessly, and I felt thoroughly uncomfortable all over.

Should I continue waiting here? I kept asking myself.

Very quickly, I reached a conclusion — I should not keep waiting. Director Xu had the privilege of forgetting his promise to me, but I did not have the privilege of forgetting my own duties. For my own sake, and for the sake of the Lord's work, I could not afford to wait any longer.

And so, having finally made up my mind, I strode out of the factory.

Following the route in my memory, I walked step by step toward the armor workshop, and discovered that the security I encountered along the way was nearly ten times stricter than usual. Had I not already worked here for some time and become familiar with many of the guards, I fear I would have had no chance at all of getting near Zhao Jin's location.

Yet even so, when I reached the outer perimeter of the armor workshop, I was still stopped by the guards.

These guards wore excellent armor, and every one of them was tall and powerfully built — clearly elite warriors who had been handpicked. They stood outside the workshop entrance, watching everyone who passed by with vigilant eyes — even though this was already the most heavily guarded place within Zhao Jin's sphere of power.

These men must be Zhao Jin's personal bodyguards! I reached this conclusion.

Perhaps because they found my behavior suspicious, these fierce, grim-faced guards quickly surrounded me and began interrogating me as to who I was.

With a heart full of apprehension, I told them my current identity and purpose.

However, they refused my request — because in Zhao Jin's original schedule, there was no arrangement to receive us foreign missionaries.

With no time to determine whether this outcome was because Xu Housheng had forgotten his promise to us, or because he had made other arrangements, I hurriedly implored these guards to let me in for an audience with Zhao Jin.

By this time, my other colleagues had also gathered around one after another. Clearly, upon learning that Zhao Jin had come to the workshop to inspect it, they had conceived the same idea as I had.

Our request was at first met with a brusque refusal from the guards, but as more and more of us arrived, and our words grew increasingly earnest, these guards began to show some hesitation — after all, Zhao Jin's group had always been relatively respectful toward foreigners, especially in circumstances where they needed to make use of our knowledge and skills.

Just as we were still negotiating with the guards, a young man dressed like an officer suddenly emerged from inside the workshop to ask what was happening outside. Clearly, the noise of our commotion outside had disturbed the people within.

We hurriedly reported our request to this stern-faced officer, and then begged him to relay everything happening outside to the supreme figure within.

The officer considered for a moment, then ultimately went back inside the workshop to report our request, while we could only wait outside in unease.

The result we received let us breathe a sigh of relief.

The officer soon returned and informed us of Zhao Jin's decision — he could spare a little time to receive us, but only for a very short while, and he could only receive one person from among us.

Amid our relief, we conferred briefly once more, and in the end decided that I should seize this opportunity. I could only silently thank my colleagues once again for their trust.

Then, led by this officer — who was still visibly on guard against me — I walked into the armor workshop.

Inside the armor workshop at this moment, all manner of processing machinery was still in operation, but the craftsmen were clearly far more energized than usual, striving desperately to leave a good impression before Zhao Jin.

And in one corner of the workshop, a large crowd was now gathered, and the officer led me toward this crowd.

There could be no mistake — I was walking toward the owner of this vast expanse of land, and perhaps toward the very pinnacle of my entire life's enterprise.

Having noticed our arrival, the people slowly parted, then studied us with cautious eyes. But I no longer had the attention to spare for them, because my entire mind was fixed upon the man standing in their midst.

This man was dressed very plainly, but his build was tall and large, and he wore a well-fitted short black robe. His face could not be called handsome — his complexion was somewhat dark from years of exposure to sun and rain — but it was sharply defined, and carried an air of nobility born from years of commanding others.

He was not looking at us, but was carefully examining the freshly forged armor plates that had yet to be finely finished, along with the rough blanks of various weapons and implements, even gently stroking them with his hand, as though they were treasures he had longed for over many years.

His expression was utterly focused, while everyone else watched him with bated breath. The swirling hot drafts only accentuated the awe and reverence on the faces of the guards and craftsmen; the occasional hushed whisper among the crowd further underscored the stillness of the atmosphere. Even that Louis de Rochefort wore a cringing, timid look, utterly devoid of the arrogance he had shown me before.

This is a man born to greatness — that was the first impression I formed.

Just as I was still carefully observing him, his gaze finally shifted away from the armor and fell upon me.

That gaze was so piercing that I even lost my composure for a moment — it was only then that I recalled: the life and death of our entire group rested upon just a few words from this man!

"My Lord!" I hurriedly bowed and paid my respects to this young man.

The young man merely nodded, then waited for me to continue, as though long accustomed to the deference of others. "You are that foreign missionary, Johann Adam Schall von Bell?"

"Yes, my Lord, I am indeed Schall von Bell," I answered respectfully. "Having received the Lord's summons, I came to your domain and received your benevolence..."

He waved his hand casually, as if somewhat impatient with my words.

"I have not granted you any benevolence. Everything must be earned through your own efforts."

It seemed he did not wish to maintain much in the way of friendly relations with us, so his tone was rather brusque, and I could only endure it in silence.

"My Lord, we have already worked under you for a long time, and we are very glad to be able to contribute our efforts to your enterprise." I deliberately adopted a different approach, in order to pique his curiosity. "Recently, we have been diligently imparting our knowledge to those apprentices..."

Upon hearing these words from me, the young man's expression finally softened a little.

"I have indeed heard about that. You have done well recently."

"But, if I may speak frankly, what we are capable of is not limited merely to the manufacture of these weapons." After drawing a deep breath, I spoke carefully.

"What do you mean?" he asked in return.

"We are missionaries, bearers of the Gospel. We can purify people's hearts, make them recognize the glory of the Lord, and obey your commands all the more — for you are clearly the Lord's representative on earth..." I laid before him the proposal I had previously conceived. "My Lord, in Europe, our religion has entered into every person's heart; they follow the will of the Lord and obey their lords. So long as you permit us to preach freely within your territory, we can reform your subjects, make them cast aside the Ming court, and unanimously obey the will of you and your descendants!"

This was the idea I had devised — a ruler should not refuse a tool that could increase the obedience of his subjects. So long as we guaranteed that the converts would be more loyal to him than to the Great Ming court, then he ought to welcome us preaching in his territory. After all, he surely harbored certain ambitions toward the Great Ming court that he could not yet openly declare.

Yet, to my immense astonishment, Zhao Jin did not show pleasure. Instead, his eyes widened slightly, as though he were on the verge of anger.

In that moment, his imposing presence was so terrifying that I no longer dared to utter a word, and even suspected in my heart that I might soon be ordered put to death.

Why was he so angry? Even in my panic, I remained utterly bewildered.

That momentary imposing presence vanished so quickly that it made me wonder if it had been nothing but an illusion.

"That will not do. You may not preach freely here in my domain," he gave a cold reply.

This reply poured a sudden bucket of cold water over my fervent heart.

To make one final effort, I mustered my courage and looked at him.

"... Honored Lord, if you would graciously grant us freedom, we would serve you even better. We understand not only the arts related to firearms, but many other things as well, and hope to serve you with all our devotion..."

In order to move his heart, I had adopted my most humble demeanor, so much so that even my voice had changed. Inwardly, I prayed to God, hoping he would change his mind.

The looks the people nearby were giving me were already clearly amiss. That Director Xu Housheng, already somewhat displeased because I had taken it upon myself to come here directly, now had an even more hostile look in his eyes. And that Monsieur Louis de Rochefort had also just hurried over; his expression was rather nervous, perhaps out of fear that I might steal his position.

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