Chapter Forty-Five: Seemingly Alchemy

Xu Kang’s activities were anything but subtle. He was busy fitting horseshoes, crafting squat tiger cannons, and instructing Zhao Hong and Zhang Cheng to buy up all the saltpeter and sulfur in Chenliu. Inevitably, this commotion drew the attention of the Chenliu Prefect, Zhang Miao.

Though Zhang Miao came from an aristocratic family, the fact that he had earned the title of “Eight Kitchens” at a young age and risen to the rank of prefect showed he was no simple figure. The moment he saw the horseshoe, he instantly recognized its significance and immediately set his men to work on forging more, soon equipping his cavalry on a large scale.

After all, Zhang Miao commanded three thousand cavalrymen, so the number of horses under his command was immense. The production of so many horseshoes was no small matter, and the stir it caused was hard to miss.

Thus, Xu Kang learned of this. But there were no intellectual property laws in this era; he had no grounds to hold Zhang Miao to account for appropriating his horseshoe design.

Instead, Xu Kang chose to write a letter, which he had Zhao Hong deliver to Zhang Miao. In this letter, he expressed with utmost “sincerity” that, having heard Zhang Miao needed horseshoes, he was willing to share the method of forging them—painstakingly developed by his ancestors—as well as the secrets of shoeing horses, all free of charge.

Additionally, he told Zhang Miao that thirty thousand catties of iron were far from sufficient. His army still lacked iron; when weapons and armor broke, there was nothing with which to repair them. He hoped that Zhang Miao could provide another hundred thousand catties of iron.

Xu Kang’s letter was lengthy, filled with humble and earnest requests, without the slightest hint of reproach or demand.

But Zhang Miao easily read the true meaning hidden between the lines—you have taken my horseshoe design, you ought to compensate me.

Understanding this, Zhang Miao replied to Xu Kang with a letter of his own. In it, he first thanked Xu Kang for sharing the horseshoe technology so selflessly, promising to petition the court to reward him for his merit.

Next, he expressed his regret that Xu Kang’s soldiers lacked iron for their weapons and armor, but explained that Chenliu truly had no iron left; what remained in the commandery belonged to local aristocrats and was beyond his authority to grant.

Thus, he could only gift Xu Kang three hundred sets of armor and weapons to replace what had been damaged, and asked for his understanding.

Finally, with great “sincerity,” he expressed his personal admiration for Xu Kang and declared that the three thousand cavalry he had lent him need not be returned. They would be a gift, free of charge, in hopes Xu Kang would continue to serve the state with distinction.

Taken at face value, it seemed Zhang Miao had shown Xu Kang every conceivable kindness: recommending him to the court, sending armor and cavalry, fulfilling every possible duty of a benefactor.

Yet in truth, this was all just a façade.

The court of today no longer valued talent above all, but wealth. Deeds and merit had become secondary. The three thousand cavalrymen Zhang Miao “gifted” were, in fact, earned by Xu Kang through his defeat of the Yellow Turbans, along with over twenty thousand prisoners exchanged for them—there was never any need to return them! The talk of borrowing was merely a formality, a matter of saving face among gentlemen; the phrase “trading merit and captives for cavalry” was too crude for polite company.

Now, by saying he admired Xu Kang and “giving” him the three thousand cavalry that were already his, Zhang Miao had cleverly maneuvered Xu Kang into owing him a favor—a masterstroke.

Thus, what Xu Kang truly received from Zhang Miao was only three hundred sets of armor and weapons, and a debt of gratitude.

This round of maneuvering gave Xu Kang a deeper understanding of the cunning and slyness of the local aristocracy. It reminded him never to underestimate these people, nor to play games of wit or words with them.

In short: if you can resolve things with action, don’t waste time talking.

But for now, Xu Kang lacked the strength to confront Zhang Miao directly. For the time being, he could only file this debt away in his heart.

“Zhang Miao, even though you’ve taken my horseshoe design, if you’d made it up to me with a few tens of thousands of catties of iron, I’d have let it go. But you brushed me off like this—just wait. One day you’ll see that my things aren’t so easily taken!”

With this in mind, he immediately summoned Zhao Hong and Zhang Cheng, handed them a few gold ingots, and instructed them to continue buying up all the saltpeter and sulfur in Chenliu, paying no mind to the price.

Backed by Xu Kang’s wealth, Zhao Hong and Zhang Cheng sped up their acquisitions, causing the prices of saltpeter and sulfur to rise sharply throughout Chenliu.

Every day, large quantities of saltpeter and sulfur were transported into Xu Kang’s camp—a fact that could not escape Zhang Miao’s notice.

In later times, the mention of saltpeter and sulfur would immediately call gunpowder to mind. But in this era, people believed saltpeter was “born of the vapor and brine of the sea, a most divine substance of heaven and earth.” Even in the Han dynasty alchemical text “The Thirty-Six Waters,” saltpeter was a principal ingredient.

Thus, in the Eastern Han, saltpeter and sulfur meant only one thing: alchemy.

Zhang Miao thought so too, and even came personally to ask Xu Kang if he could make the “Five Stone Powder.” When Xu Kang replied that he could not, Zhang Miao left with a look of regret, leaving Xu Kang both amused and exasperated.

This turn of events also provided Xu Kang with the perfect cover for his experiments with gunpowder—alchemy.

Buying saltpeter and sulfur? That’s for alchemical ingredients. Forging squat tiger cannons? Those are alchemists’ furnaces. Bringing in wood to make charcoal? Preparing for alchemy. Mixing saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal for combustion? That’s alchemy begun. An explosion? Merely a failed batch, furnace blown to pieces…

With these excuses, Xu Kang’s cannon experiments, noisy as they were, caused him no trouble. In fact, they made him a hot topic among the gentry of Chenliu.

After all, an alchemist who failed every time he tried but always managed to blow up his furnace was, in his own way, quite remarkable.

Xu Kang, of course, was unaware of the ridicule he received from the aristocrats; even if he knew, he would not have cared. For him, only the growth of his strength was real—everything else was illusory.

One day, as usual, he stood in the parade ground of his camp. Before him, fifty freshly cast squat tiger cannons were arranged in a neat row.

Behind each cannon stood three soldiers: one holding a torch, one with the gunpowder, and one carrying stones.

Compared to a few days before, the soldiers’ faces now showed less fear and anxiety, replaced by growing confidence and excitement.

Seeing this, Xu Kang smiled faintly, then raised his hand in a gentle wave.

“I now order: Divine Fire Battalion, commence the twenty-sixth artillery exercise—load your weapons!”

“Yes, sir!”

At his command, the soldiers with powder and stones stepped forward, loading their respective charges into the squat tiger cannons’ muzzles, then quickly retreated two paces and covered their ears.

The soldier with the torch, on Xu Kang’s shout of “Fire!” immediately ignited the fuse at the back of the cannon.

At once, a thunderous roar echoed across the parade ground.

“Boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—”