Chapter 801: Great Calamity Approaches?

Censor Wang was overbearing in manner, but his nose twitched twice — he had already caught the acrid smell of burning paper. Wang Youshan thought to himself, This is bad. Those two agents must have smelled it too. If they follow the scent and find those Liaodong military dispatches and Ministry of War reports, the charges will be even more firmly nailed down. Combined with what happened in Xuzhou, he'd likely never escape a conviction for rebellion!

What Wang Youshan hadn't expected was that the two agents across from him paid it no mind whatsoever. One of them even fanned the air with his hand in disgust and muttered, "What's that smell?"

The other agent grinned and said, "Sir Wang, if it were any other censor, we brothers would really have to think twice. Touch one of them and you've kicked a hornet's nest. But you're all alone with no backing — what do we have to fear? We arrest you, and that's that. Who's going to care?"

Wang Youshan's face immediately turned very ugly. The other one chimed in with a smile, "Originally, Sir Wang did have connections. Too bad his entire faction has already scattered. Even without that, it wouldn't matter — if that Eunuch Wu you relied on were still around, we wouldn't dare lay a hand on you either. But hasn't Eunuch Wu already gone off to Fengyang to grow vegetables? Who's left to protect Sir Wang?"

"What do you want?" Wang Youshan composed himself and asked in a low voice. Things had reached this point; there was nothing left to salvage.

These past few years, changes had come too fast. Factions took turns rising to power, and with the throne changing hands so rapidly, the eunuch factions were just as violently unstable. Such upheaval brought joy to some and sorrow to others — Wang Youshan was one of the sorrowful. Never mind that his own clique had vanished like smoke; even his connections inside the palace were gone. That Eunuch Wu who had looked after him had long since been banished from the capital.

The two agents exchanged a glance, then chuckled. "Sir Wang's household is famously wealthy — we brothers all know that. Money is but a worldly possession. If Sir Wang is a bit more generous, he'll suffer a bit less. We've got no personal grudge; this is just an assignment handed down from above."

Wang Youshan knew he had no room to struggle or resist, but he still had one thought: if only these two agents had come, he could have his household servants make a move, then flee the capital. Aside from Uncle He, who was a capable fighter, the Wang household had three other servants with martial skills. Add in the couriers with their fast horses, and dealing with two agents wouldn't be hard.

But the moment he reached the front hall, Wang Youshan abandoned that idea. The Brocade Guard had come with over a dozen men in total, several of them tough and formidable types, every one of them armed. If they fought, the most likely outcome was mutual destruction — and the uproar would be too great, bringing even greater trouble.

Uncle He had already been placed under watch. When he saw Wang Youshan approach, he kept signaling with his eyes, asking what to do. Wang Youshan was silent for a moment, then gave a tiny shake of his head.

Once they had seized the man, the Brocade Guard agents naturally had to conduct a search. Wang Youshan didn't try to hide anything and directly told them where the silver was hidden. At the sight of that large sum of gold and silver, the agents who had come were all elated, and their attitude toward Wang Youshan improved considerably. A man this rich surely had an even wealthier household — when they came to visit and work things out later, there would no doubt be more benefits. One naturally ought to treat the God of Wealth a little better.

Over the years in the capital, Wang Youshan had seen plenty. He knew that when these agents arrested someone, they always searched meticulously — letters, documents, and the like were all evidence, and could also be used to implicate others. The study was usually the place they combed through most carefully. Yet this time, with so many men here, after they had looted the silver and valuables, they paid no attention to anything else.

This was truly bizarre. Wang Youshan even suspected they were impostors just robbing him. But the agents produced their waist badges and named their superior officer — that couldn't be faked.

When he was escorted out of the compound, quite a crowd had gathered outside to watch. Many Censorate family members lived here, but everyone looked at Wang Youshan with utter indifference, not a trace of righteous indignation on their faces. That was because Wang Youshan had kept his distance from everyone. Not being of the same faction, they naturally felt no closeness.

Wang Youshan's face was pale. He was anxious about what he would face next and worried about those youngsters in Xuzhou — so much so that his steps were a little unsteady. Wang Youshan suddenly noticed that Uncle He beside him was acting strangely, as if he were turning his head and craning his neck.

Seeing this, Wang Youshan felt a flash of irritation. At a time like this, still wasting effort on such useless antics? He turned his head and followed the direction of Uncle He's gaze, and in the crowd he spotted a familiar face. It was a courier from Xuzhou, staring at their group with a face full of shock. The courier's expression then quickly turned indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with him, and he turned and walked off into the distance.

Wang Youshan inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief. News of his arrest could be sent back to Xuzhou at once — that made everything easier. It might even save him. Deep down, he couldn't help feeling that those youngsters in Xuzhou were actually capable of anything.

Just as the arresting agents had said — and Wang Youshan himself had guessed — when a rank-seven civil official with no one to protect him, isolated in both the inner court and the outer court, was arrested, even though he was a censor of the Censorate, supposedly one of the "pure critics," no one paid him any mind. A few people, out of curiosity or professional duty, did make inquiries, but the moment they heard "rebellion," they immediately kept their distance.

It was nearly the fifth month, the finest season of the year. The weather was clear but not too hot, and there were intermittent rains. The crops in the fields were growing well, and people were already saying this year had favorable weather.

Under the guidance of the foreigner Louis, the blacksmiths who had relocated near the He Family Estate had produced a new model of fire lance. The smiths had followed the specifications to the letter when forging, but in private they couldn't help grumbling a bit — saying this foreigner was unreliable, had a weird appearance, and didn't seem to know much about the work in a smithy. What could a foreign devil like that possibly understand about ironwork?

Besides, on this newly built fire lance, not only had the wooden stock been made longer and larger, but the barrel had also been made shorter and thicker. How far could a contraption like that shoot? What kind of power could it have?

The foreigner's troublesome points didn't stop there. Gunpowder — that formula had been passed down from the ancestors, and everyone had been using it that way for ages. But he just had to stir up trouble, insisting on pressing the prepared powder into cakes, then grinding them fine with a small mill and sifting them through a fine sieve. Who knew how much extra work that was? If Zhao Jin hadn't backed him, everyone would have turned on him long ago.

And when it came down to it, Zhao Jin was still young. He'd trained in martial arts since childhood, yet here he was, throwing his weight around in the smithy too. What did he know? Every master craftsman made his own measuring tools and gear — using someone else's just didn't feel right. But no, he insisted everything had to be uniform. Even pieces made by the same master had to be checked over and over, and only when they were absolutely identical were they handed out for everyone to use. It was terribly hard to get used to at first.

Still, everyone understood in their hearts: Master Jin was their boss and patron. Whatever he said, they'd just obediently listen.

All that resentment toward the foreigner Louis vanished into thin air the moment the fire lances were finished and the smiths test-fired them. The thicker barrel allowed for a heavier powder charge and a heavier lead ball — naturally, the power was greater. And the range hadn't gotten shorter. If they used the re-ground and sifted powder, both range and power actually increased...

Since it worked well, no one had anything more to say. They simply followed orders. But they still had to keep recruiting helpers, because processing the gunpowder was very troublesome and required a great deal of manpower. What had originally been a task for the smiths' helpers now became a separate workshop, built specially beside a small stream. They even dug several ditches — the stream water could be used to fight fires, and if there was any danger of explosion, everyone could jump into the ditches first!

Though the design was different, the basic structure wasn't much different from a bird gun. In fact, because the barrel was thicker, it was actually simpler to manufacture, and the reject rate dropped considerably. On the twenty-second day of the fifth month, thirty fire lances were delivered to Zhao Jin. The propellant charges had also been wrapped into small paper cartridges according to prior instructions.

Just like last time, the scholar-trainees were assembled on the parade ground. Several sets of armor were set up in front — there were padded cotton armors, as well as Zhao Battalion's own armor. In addition, thirty of the bird guns that had previously been put into storage were also brought out.

The new fire lances and the bird guns began loading and firing at the same time, and the gap was clear from the very start. Even though both used pre-measured cartridges, the bird gun's long, thin barrel made loading less convenient than the new fire lance. To say nothing else, aligning the ramrod with the muzzle — one thrust to seat it versus two or three — that alone was a difference.

Then there were range, power, and accuracy — all showed a gap. The improved stock of the fire lance allowed the shooter to hold steady, which the bird gun could not match. The larger caliber meant a heavier powder charge and a heavier lead ball, which meant greater range and greater power.

What stunned the Zhao Battalion officers who had come to observe was this: at around forty paces, the new fire lance was already damaging Zhao Battalion's own armor. At thirty paces, it could fully penetrate it.

Seeing this result, Ji Xiang was completely convinced. Indeed, this sort of thing couldn't be taken for granted.

"Good. Reward Louis with ten taels of gold, and the interpreter with ten taels of silver," Zhao Jin said with a smile from the wooden platform. Merit deserved reward — especially for someone like Louis.

In this era, there were two kinds of foreigners who came to the Great Ming. One kind were devout missionaries; the other were adventurers out to make a fortune. As for what kind of man Louis really was, he himself made no particular effort to hide it — because Zhao Jin didn't care in the slightest about his missionary identity. Louis was an adventurer wearing a pious skin with a fortune-seeking heart. For a man like that, rewarding him with straightforward gold and silver was more effective than anything else.

Hearing Zhao Jin's words, the interpreter beamed with joy. He was busy all year for just twenty or thirty taels of silver — this one reward was half a year's income. As for Louis, without even waiting for the interpreter to translate, his face was already wreathed in smiles as he bowed deeply and said in a bizarre, twisted accent, "Many thanks for the great master's generous reward."

The accent was exceedingly strange, roughly a distorted version of Songjiang Mandarin. Zhao Jin and the others were first taken aback, then burst into uproarious laughter — they all found it highly amusing.

"Master, this Louis is now studying Mandarin very diligently. The very first words he learned were 'gold' and 'silver'..." Seeing everyone in high spirits, the interpreter quickly chimed in to add to the fun, which made Zhao Jin and the others laugh even harder.

The foreigner Louis wore a face full of smiles, and it was impossible to tell whether he actually understood that everyone was teasing him.

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