Chapter 126: Caliber is Justice

Zhao Hengyi, the master behind the evening school textbooks, cared little for Zhou Yonglin’s shock and bewilderment. As a man baptized by the era of the information explosion, Zhao understood clearly that when the Great Yan Dynasty inevitably collapsed, mere brute force would be insufficient to protect himself, his family, and his followers.

He had long harbored the intention of instilling his own ideas into those around him, though he knew such an endeavor had to be handled with extreme care and gradual progress. The two most difficult tasks in the world are, arguably, forcing one's own ideas into another person's head and getting people to happily hand over their money to you. Zhao felt he had mastered the latter; whether through his Jiuhua Yulu wine, inexpensive textiles, or small-scale sales of high-proof spirits, he had succeeded. But the former was a far greater challenge.

Although the Great Yan Dynasty was as corrupt and foul-smelling as a dying man, it had not yet completely collapsed. Zhao could not afford to use radical methods, lest he provoke Magistrate Liu Rui into leading troops to suppress him. Nevertheless, he did not abandon the idea of smuggling his own "private goods" into the evening school curriculum. Since the school functioned primarily as a literacy program, few students grasped the deeper meanings behind the lessons, yet this allowed the seeds of his ideas to be sown quietly.

The evening school in Yushu Bay had continued to expand, now employing five instructors to provide tiered literacy training. Clever young men had already mastered basic arithmetic and literacy, sufficient to serve as clerks within the workshops. Attendance was not mandatory; rather, incentives were used to encourage learning. However, for specific roles and individuals, mastery of certain knowledge within a set timeframe was required—a rule that applied to the arrogant Zhang Daniu.

Zhang Daniu prided himself on being the master’s personal apprentice. Aside from the village elder and a few seniors, he treated even the workshop managers with utter disdain, his nose permanently tilted toward the sky. Yet, his arrogance was backed by skill. In the newly established smelting workshop, aside from Wu Ren—a former craftsman from the Imperial Directorate for Palace Construction—Zhang Daniu possessed the most formidable technique. Most importantly, he had mastered the production of tungsten steel even before Wu Ren.

Initially, to defend against the assassin known as "No Shadow," Zhao had worked with Zhang Daniu and Wu Ren to cobble together a crude firearm, which they used to kill the martial artist. To Zhao, that weapon was little more than a oversized hand cannon. Its caliber was haphazard, and to prevent it from exploding, the barrel had been made excessively thick, rendering it too heavy for practical use. Reloading was cumbersome, the steel balls and iron pellets were inconvenient to load, and it easily burned the user—Zhao himself had lost a patch of skin on his hand when he killed No Shadow. It was, in essence, a failed emergency prototype.

With the successful development of tungsten steel and the constant supply of tungsten ore from the Hengtong Trading Firm, Zhao was no longer satisfied with such crude contraptions. He even harbored bold thoughts of skipping the matchlock phase entirely to pursue the development of breech-loading rifles. If successful, he was confident he could assemble an armed force that would crush this era.

Alas, reality was far more unforgiving than his ideals. The firearm was not like a crossbow; it presented countless technical hurdles. Zhao had been too ambitious, and after spending days in the workshop with Zhang Daniu and Wu Ren, he had to admit his ideas were too fanciful. Ironically, it was Zhang Daniu who failed to understand why his master insisted on thin barrels and spiral rifling. "Doesn't the master know," Zhang had asked, "that the bigger the weapon, the more powerful it is?"

Zhao was stunned. He had never expected the simple-minded Zhang Daniu to independently grasp the profound philosophy that "caliber is justice." But this change in perspective opened new doors. "Daniu is right! If we can't build small-caliber firearms, why not simply build large-caliber cannons?"

Zhang Daniu, praised by his master, scratched his shaved head and giggled. In an era where one's body and hair were considered sacred gifts from one's parents, Zhang had truly sacrificed much for his craft. "It is all thanks to your teaching, Master! Without you, I would still be stuck in the blacksmith shop making firewood knives and hoes."

Zhao felt a twinge of toothache at the sight of Zhang’s shameless flattery. It was truly nauseating.

He abandoned the idea of the new firearm for the time being and turned his focus to cannons. Firearms would still be produced, but only for experimental purposes and limited equipping of the guard unit. Only when he had gathered more craftsmen and accumulated sufficient technology would he move to mass production.

The primary technical challenges—barrel forging and fixed ammunition—were difficult to overcome in the short term. Firearms would remain a secret trump card, perhaps even considered less reliable than crossbows by his guards. But when it came to cannons, Zhao felt confident. He possessed high-quality tungsten steel and a solid gunpowder formula. While manufacturing smokeless powder in bulk might be difficult, it was sufficient for a few cannons. And if one subscribed to the philosophy that "caliber is justice," who cared about smoke or residue? If the caliber were large enough, one could practically crawl inside to clean it out!

Zhao lacked the means to build modern high-tech artillery, but given his current conditions, he could certainly create something simple yet devastating. He recalled a weapon from his previous life—one that was notoriously "user-friendly," affectionately dubbed by his comrades as the "Flying Mortar."