Chapter Fifty-four: Expanding and Strengthening

When a man encounters good fortune, his spirits soar; so it was that Zhao Hengyi, rising early, found everything pleasing to the eye. Sun Xiuying’s peculiar smile caught his attention—this girl was honest and capable; soon, she would be sent to Broken Cliff Mountain to manage the textile workshop. The six little ones, adorable as ever—tomorrow, their brother-in-law would go to the county and buy them sweets! Even Wang Dahu, usually fierce-faced, now appeared gentle; after leading his men last night to eradicate the remaining bandits at Second Ravine, Zhao Hengyi had always known he was talented! Even Zhang Daniu, normally slow-witted, seemed cleverer than usual as he flattered with a silly smile—perhaps it was time to impart all his skills to this apprentice.

Watching his master’s unusual mood, Wang Erhu scratched his head in confusion. Why was the master so cheerful this morning? Could it be he stumbled upon a gold ingot while walking at night? Bah, what do you know of men's affairs, you little unmarried brat? This master will not stoop to your level!

Freed from immediate worries, Zhao Hengyi prepared to focus on development. First, he tasked the village chief with selecting reliable people to learn to build looms. The most crucial component manufacturing techniques had been mastered by Zhang Daniu; as long as this simple fellow trained his apprentices to increase production, they could create a steady stream of eight-spindle Jenny looms. These looms would be reasonably distributed between Elm Bay and Broken Cliff Mountain workshops, guarded by the security team. Unless a large force attempted a brazen theft, no one could steal the loom technology from these places.

The planned two brick kilns continued to expand, eventually becoming three. In Zhao Hengyi’s vision, Elm Bay would one day form an industrial cluster backed by Great Green Mountain. Without early planning, future workshop expansions would scatter the village’s layout.

Lime and cement kilns also began construction, employing large numbers of able-bodied men from nearby villages. Now, when Elm Bay’s people left home, they walked tall, even with a touch of pride. After all, those who once looked down on them from other villages now came seeking work and food—this created a psychological advantage, and everyone’s spirit transformed.

As the textile workshop expanded, drawing women from other villages into its industries became inevitable. Zhao Hengyi had already warned the village chief—not to bully outsiders who came to work.

The old village chief, who had long earned respect among neighboring villages, wholeheartedly agreed. His rich experience had taught him that the more industries, the more reputation mattered; lose reputation, and Elm Bay’s foundation would be shaken.

With ample money and food, Zhao Hengyi began reforming the hunting and security teams. These armed groups under his control had to remain independent yet interlinked; thus, Zhao Hengyi ordered all members to leave their previous trades and dedicate themselves fully. Whether hunters or guards, they now followed Zhao Hengyi’s training plan daily—three meals provided, generous monthly wages, completely separate from the village’s work-point system.

This was deliberate. Zhao Hengyi wanted these men to understand they were different from ordinary workers.

The twenty-five veteran soldiers newly recruited all decided to settle in Elm Bay; bricks from the kilns were prioritized for their homes. Zhao Hengyi adopted a row-house design—connected dwellings that saved both materials and time. No one objected; in these times, to live in a brick house, safe from storms and collapse, was a dream even common folk hardly dared to hope for.

The rest of the villagers did not envy them, for the master had made it clear: soon, all of Elm Bay would be rebuilt, and everyone would live in sturdy brick houses.

Previously overlooked, the poultry farm now thrived. Chicks and a few ducklings purchased by the village chief, fed on earthworms, grew swiftly and laid eggs abundantly. The eighteen families who initially agreed to dig earthworms each held a five percent share in the poultry farm and earned work points there, attracting much envy.

These eighteen families were living advertisements for Zhao Hengyi; whatever he did next, all villagers would follow, whether they understood or not.

Zhao Hengyi took time to pick clever hands from these families, built a heated clay bed in the poultry farm, and taught artificial incubation techniques. Once experience matured, the farm would flourish even more.

Having communicated with Song San, Zhao Hengyi abandoned his earlier slow development strategy. This decision was not only influenced by Song San and his brother Song Ying’an.

Zhao Hengyi had made up his mind on the road back from Everlasting City.

The Great Yan Kingdom resembled a titanic vessel, always on the brink of capsizing. When the ship sank, one could only rely on oneself.

His journey to Everlasting City revealed how rotten the vessel had become. The noble system was the foundation of the Great Yan Kingdom, one of its pillars. Though civil officials now dominated and martial honors were undervalued to an absurd degree, the titles earned by military merit remained coveted, still propping up the nation.

Yet, after achieving unprecedented feats outside Everlasting City, Zhao Hengyi saw his glory snatched, under the silent consent or active push of the court, by the brother of Lady Chen, the pampered consort.

Zhao Hengyi was granted a barony only as a consolation prize, for the ministers feared unrest among frontier generals. Chen Yongzhong, who nearly destroyed the entire Xuan Battalion, was rewarded as chief merit and ennobled as a count.

The pillars of the nation were reduced to playthings by officials currying favor with the inner palace, and most importantly, the emperor himself allowed it.

After this experience, Zhao Hengyi shed his last illusions about the Great Yan Kingdom. He believed a severe drought this year could trigger the collapse of the empire and overturn the world.

He had no ambition for power or dominance; he only sought the strength to protect himself. Now, he had no time for gradual progress—he must take bigger steps and amass enough power before the final hour arrived.

Song San, the steward, was equally ambitious. His advice: build the workshops as large as possible, hire as many workers as possible, earn as much silver as possible, and work tirelessly.

Zhao Hengyi laughed at that. There was an endless supply of salt in Great Green Mountain—would you dare touch that business? Not just a steward of Baron Dangyang; even if Marquis Weiwu himself tried, facing such vast wealth, he would surely tremble.