In fact, from the very first time the Field Irrigation Machine had been tested on the ridges of Wu'an City's fields, spraying out white mist tinged with water vapor, Zhao Cheng had already anticipated it.
A technology capable of overturning an era was bound to draw the covetous eyes of countless people. Theft, imitation, and replication were only a matter of time.
After all, the basic principles of the steam engine were no great secret to be hidden away.
Anyone who cared to observe only had to watch the white steam billowing from an Iron Dragon Horse as it galloped, look at the orange-red flames dancing within the Field Irrigation Machine's furnace as it ran, then connect it to the everyday sight of steam lifting a kettle lid while water boiled. Anyone even slightly clever could vaguely guess the core logic behind steam-generated power.
If they were willing to put more thought into tracing it back to its source, they could take an ordinary kettle, attach a wooden crankshaft to its spout, and observe how steam drove the wooden crankshaft to turn. They might even fumble their way toward the rudimentary principle of converting heat energy into motive force.
As for the mechanisms of power transmission—such as turning the reciprocating motion of a steam-driven piston into the rotational motion that drove wheels and gears—that was no difficult problem for the Mohist School, which had immersed itself in Mechanism Arts for centuries.
They were proficient in the techniques of meshing gears and crankshaft transmission. As long as they had seen a finished product in operation, reproducing a similar transmission structure was merely a matter of time.
What could truly stymie everyone were two seemingly inconspicuous essentials: the quality of the steel and control of the furnace temperature.
In theory, the upper