Chapter 47 Flintlock

"Let's go take a look at the smelting workshop."

An Xin pulled gently on the reins and nudged his horse's flanks.

Zhang Qian and Zhang Liang quickly followed behind.

In the southern part of the city, a courtyard covering an area of twelve mu belonged to the county magistrate's office.

This place was originally the private estate of a wealthy merchant, but later the merchant committed a crime, was beheaded, and his property was confiscated by the government.

Xu Dashan, the bailiff guarding the front gate, saw An Xin riding toward him. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things, then bolted forward in a flash.

"Your Honor!"

He hurriedly grabbed the reins, helped An Xin dismount, and then tied the reins to the hitching post.

Walking with a stride into the estate, the first courtyard featured a square pond complete with rockeries, pavilions, and terraces, exuding an air of elegance.

Meanwhile, from the western subsidiary courtyard, the endless sound of rhythmic hammering rang out.

Stepping into the subsidiary courtyard, the houses here had long since been dismantled into a scattered array of blacksmith sheds.

As soon as one stepped inside, a wave of oppressive heat hit them.

With hammers large and small, glowing red iron billets were repeatedly struck until they gradually took shape.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, a muffled explosion rang out.

Shortly after, a bare-chested man as robust as a bear ducked his head and emerged from behind the moon gate.

An Xin's gaze was immediately drawn to the gleaming new musket the man held in his hand.

"Lord Magistrate!"

Ge Rong cupped his fists in a bow toward An Xin.

"Let's go inside to talk."

An Xin took the lead, walking further inward.

Entering the fourth courtyard on the western side, it grew much quieter here.

"Has the flintlock musket been successfully made?"

An Xin finally asked.

"Indeed."

Ge Rong nodded and said, "Your Honor has arrived at the perfect time; it was just assembled this morning. We test-fired a few rounds earlier, and at a distance of fifty paces, the lead bullets easily pierced iron armor! Compared to matchlocks, it is much more convenient, and its firepower is also greater."

An Xin rolled up his sleeves and reached out to take the weapon.

The barrel had been polished smooth without a single burr, and touching it gave only a cold, metallic feel. The stock and handguard were made of crape myrtle wood, polished and oiled, revealing a translucent natural wood grain that looked very high-end.

Ge Rong produced some black powder, poured a small amount down the barrel, and dropped in a lead pellet.

An Xin took the ramrod, reached into the barrel to tamp down the powder firmly, then loaded the lead ball into the muzzle, using an oily cloth patch as wadding, pushing it down tightly with the ramrod as well.

He poured finer, more easily ignitable black powder into the priming pan.

This completed the preparatory steps before firing.

An Xin looked at the archery target in the distance, raised the flintlock musket in his hands, pulled back the cock, and the mechanism entered the ready-to-fire state.

Aiming at the target through the sights, he squeezed the trigger with his index finger.

"Bang!"

With a sharp explosion, the muzzle spat fire, and a thick cloud of white smoke obscured his vision.

The acrid, pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air.

When the white smoke cleared, An Xin looked at the target and discovered it was completely intact.

His very first shot had missed the target entirely.

"You hit it!"

Ge Rong exclaimed.

Flattering him, he said, "At fifty paces, for Your Honor to strike the lower edge of the target can only be called divine marksmanship."

An Xin looked closer, his eyes sharp like a falcon's, and saw that near the bottom of the target, there was indeed a graze mark from a lead ball, leaving a tiny notch in the wooden target.

"The accuracy of a smoothbore is still far too poor. If we can cut rifling inside the barrel, the precision will improve immensely."

An Xin turned the weapon over and peered into the barrel against the sunlight.

"Rifling?"

Ge Rong listened nearby, furrowing his brow in thought.

An Xin explained, "It means cutting several evenly spaced spiral grooves inside the barrel. This way, once the projectile flies out, its accuracy will increase dramatically."

Ge Rong pondered for a moment, still unable to understand why adding a few lines would improve a lead bullet's accuracy.

Deciding that since he couldn't figure it out, he would simply put it into practice, he resolved to try out the magistrate's suggestion next.

He didn't understand the physics behind the flintlock, but he had a tremendous interest in its manufacturing and use.

"Carving rifling into the barrel—if it proves too time-consuming and labor-intensive, don't waste the time on it. Just produce a batch of usable flintlocks first."

After all, during volley fire, a few rounds would create such a thick fog that people couldn't even see clearly, making pinpoint accuracy less critical.

"Additionally, you can hire a few dexterous women to roll the gunpowder and lead bullets together in paper. When using them, this will eliminate the step-by-step process of pouring powder, loading projectiles, and stuffing wadding, which can greatly increase firing efficiency."

An Xin offered his suggestions for improvement.

Though Ge Rong lacked theoretical knowledge, he was extremely flexible in practical thinking.

Following An Xin's instructions, his mind clicked and he immediately understood. He couldn't help but feel that although the magistrate was a civil official, he was truly a damned military genius.

"Your Honor, I have tested the skills of the blacksmiths one by one. Although flintlock muskets have high demands on craftsmanship and are rather troublesome to make, the sabers, shields, spears, and wolf-brush-spears needed by the battalion soldiers can be completed almost by this month. By then, after spending some time on integration, we can dedicate our full effort to making flintlocks, and should be able to produce three to five usable ones per day. However, our gunpowder is scarce—we only have one jar, less than five catties."

Ge Rong reminded him.

Hearing this, An Xin pinched the bridge of his nose.

This gunpowder had been requisitioned from the Inspection Bureau under the pretext of suppressing bandits.

Yet the Inspection Bureau already held very little gunpowder to begin with, and most of it had been taken away when troops were dispatched to Eastern Sun Prefecture to suppress Japanese pirates.

At present, saltpeter and charcoal were easy to come by, leaving sulfur as the primary obstacle.

Wuren County did not produce sulfur, and neither Yuntai Prefecture nor Wubei possessed sulfur mines. For An Xin to secretly purchase sulfur on a large scale would undoubtedly be immensely difficult.

Even after leaving the private estate and returning to the official residence, An Xin was still plagued by this headache.

His vexation was plain for Zhang Qian and Zhang Liang to see, as they had been following closely by his side.

After a moment of hesitation, Zhang Qian took the initiative to ask, "Is Your Honor troubled by the production of black gunpowder?"

"Indeed. Among the ingredients, there is sulfur, and I have yet to find a reliable source of raw materials."

An Xin tossed his folding fan aside, found a recliner under the eaves of the courtyard, sat down, and began fanning himself with a cattail-leaf fan.

"Your Honor."

Zhang Qian and Zhang Liang exchanged glances before Zhang Qian spoke up. "When I returned home yesterday, my brother and I asked our uncle about the situation regarding sulfur. According to what our uncle said, sulfur is produced in Shandong. My uncle might have connections."

Having spent the past seven or eight days by An Xin's side as attendants and learners, the two youths had naturally learned to anticipate some of the magistrate's needs and were actively trying to find ways to solve problems for him.

"Oh?"

By keeping the two of them by his side, An Xin naturally knew their background.

They currently lived with the family of their uncle, Liang Wensheng, who was a ship-master of the outer hall for the Wuren County branch of the River Gang—essentially a "shipping supervisor" in charge of two dozen boats of various sizes.

If this Liang Wensheng had connections and means, using the River Gang's boats to smuggle some sulfur wouldn't be a problem at all.

"Tomorrow, please invite..."

An Xin was about to say to have Liang Wensheng come over tomorrow, but then he felt that might not be entirely appropriate.

Liang Wensheng was a member of the underworld; meeting privately was improper.

That wasn't the main point, however. The primary reason was that An Xin didn't particularly want to establish ties with Liang Wensheng just yet. If it was determined that Liang Wensheng was a capable and discreet person, establishing contact later wouldn't be too late.

"Here is what we will do: Zhang Qian, Zhang Liang, under the pretext of bandit suppression, go draw one thousand taels of silver in a moment. The two of you shall be responsible for this matter."

An Xin said.

"This student will certainly not fail Your Honor's trust!"

Hearing this, the two youths were overcome with excitement.

Having served by the magistrate's side for seven or eight days, this was their very first proper assignment.

And it was an assignment in service of the grand cause of suppressing bandits!