At the entrance of Xie Guang's small courtyard stood a horse-drawn carriage, piled high with large boxes and small cloth bags, fully loaded.
Jin Feng inspected the contents and nodded with satisfaction.
As expected of the Marquis's handiwork, the pig iron blocks purchased were far superior to those the old blacksmith used to buy.
A new set of tools for both the blacksmith and the carpenter had also been acquired.
What surprised Jin Feng the most was that the steward had managed to find saltpeter and magnesium powder.
With these materials, Jin Feng could attempt to create even more formidable weapons.
These were his true trump cards for survival, a secret he had shared with no one.
Previously, he had scoured every shop in Jinchuan but failed to find these two items.
Xie Guang's home wasn't large, and after accommodating Qing Huai, his guards, and the steward, there was no extra room. So, Jin Feng had the guards set up a military tent in the yard and unloaded the supplies there.
With round-the-clock guards stationed there, it was much safer than keeping the items at his own home.
After a hearty meal and with the supplies secured, Jin Feng selected what he needed and carried them back to his house with Man Cang.
Looking at the small furnace by the wall, Jin Feng felt a pang of frustration.
The furnace was too small and rudimentary, resulting in low output.
But there was no other option. Building the furnace he envisioned would take months, even with Qing Huai's help.
Time was simply not on his side.
Qing Huai's guards had already left for Bianjing with the family letter. By the time they returned with the transfer order, the furnace might still be under construction.
"Forget it, let's make a batch for urgent use first and modify the furnace later," Jin Feng consoled himself.
From that night onward, the clanging of metal never ceased in the blacksmith's workshop.
Jin Feng, Man Cang, and the Liang brothers took turns working, producing about two hundred meters of wire each day.
For this task, Zhang Liang even stopped going to the county office, temporarily handing over the delivery duties to Liu Tie.
After being cooped up in the workshop for about a week, the village chief suddenly arrived, announcing that the brick kiln had cooled down and was ready to be opened.
"Ah, I've been so busy these past few days that I almost forgot about this," Jin Feng said, slapping his forehead.
As the investor and designer of the kiln, he had to be present for the first firing.
After waking the snoring Man Cang to take over, Jin Feng followed the village chief to the riverside.
In the few days since his last visit, the riverside had been transformed, with rows upon rows of neatly stacked brick molds covering the area.
"I was just scolding these blockheads earlier. They're all eager to earn a few extra days' wages, but they don't realize you only need enough bricks for one house. I told them to stop, but they just wouldn't listen," the village chief said, pointing at the molds. "Don't worry, Feng. I won't pay them for the extra bricks you don't need."
"Why stop?" Jin Feng replied with a smile. "Once this batch is fired, let's split the mold-makers in half and build another kiln. That should solve the problem."
"But you only need enough bricks for one house. Why fire so many?"
"If I have extras, others can use them to build their homes," Jin Feng explained. "Chief, you can spread the word. After I'm done, anyone who wants to build a brick house can exchange firewood for bricks here."
"Really?" The village chief stopped in his tracks.
"Of course," Jin Feng said, thinking for a moment. "One jin of dry firewood for five bricks. And if you help me oversee the kiln, I won't charge your family for the bricks."
People tend to slack off over time. At first, both the women in the workshop and the men at the kiln worked diligently, but gradually, some began to shirk their duties.
The workshop was better managed, as Tang Dongdong kept a close eye on things, but the kiln was another story. Some men had already started to dawdle.
With his focus primarily on the blacksmith's workshop, Jin Feng didn't have the energy to manage the kiln, so he had to rely on the village chief to keep an eye on things.
If the villagers didn't shape up, he would have to switch to a piece-rate payment system.
"Feng, don't worry. If anyone dares to slack off or brings wet firewood, I'll break their legs," the village chief declared, thumping his chest so hard his beard trembled.
His thatched cottage had been standing for over a decade, and many parts were rotting. It leaked during rains, and in a few more years, it might collapse.
Every time he visited the county and saw the brick houses there, the village chief couldn't help but feel envious.
Brick houses didn't rot, and with proper maintenance, they could be passed down as family heirlooms.
The village chief had never dared to dream that he might one day live in such a fine house.
"Chief, I trust you completely," Jin Feng said, patting the old man's shoulder.
Exchanging one jin of dry firewood for five bricks was essentially at cost, and he might even lose a bit on labor.
But Jin Feng hadn't built the kiln to make a profit. Losing a bit on labor was acceptable if it made life easier in the village.
Sure enough, when the village chief announced the news, the riverside erupted in excitement.
"Tomorrow, I'll send my kids up the mountain to gather firewood."
"Feng, you're paying us wages and letting us exchange firewood for bricks. If you ever need anything, just call on me, Old Niu."
"Feng, I promise to work hard from now on. No more slacking."
"Feng, you've given my family a way to make a living. You're our savior!"
...
The mud-covered men crowded around Jin Feng, eagerly pledging their loyalty.
Once everyone had calmed down, Jin Feng directed the villagers to dismantle the earthen wall sealing the kiln.
This was the first batch of bricks from the kiln, and Jin Feng had prepared himself for failure.
To his surprise, the firing was a success, with only a few cracked bricks.
Harvests always bring joy, even when the yield isn't grain but stacks of bricks.
The villagers were even more excited than Jin Feng. Ignoring the lingering heat inside the kiln, they rushed in to start moving the bricks.
Meanwhile, after days of travel, Zheng Fang and Liu Qiong finally arrived in Bianjing with Qing Huai's family letter.
They rode to the Duke of Qing's residence, presented Qing Huai's token, and requested to see Steward Chen.
Given their status, they weren't qualified to meet the Duke directly, so they had to rely on the steward, who had a good relationship with Qing Huai, to deliver the letter.
"Please wait in the gatehouse while I inform Steward Chen," the gatekeeper said, recognizing the third young master's token.
But before Zheng Fang and Liu Qiong could step inside, Qing Huai's eldest brother, Qing Zheng, walked out, carrying a birdcage.
"Young Master!" Zheng Fang and Liu Qiong quickly bowed and stepped aside to make way.
"Why are you two here in Bianjing instead of protecting Third Brother in Jinchuan?" Qing Zheng asked, eyeing them suspiciously. "Has Third Brother been killed by the Tanguts, and you're here to deliver the news?"