March weather changed on a whim. A few days ago, it had still been pleasantly warm, but one sweep of the north wind brought a chill back inside the pass.
When Qin Tiexin returned from the storehouse carrying iron ingots, quite a crowd had gathered outside Third Section, Seventh Group's shed. They were all craftsmen from the Craftsmen's Camp, standing in a circle around something lying on the ground, covered with ragged sackcloth.
Zhou Cang crouched at the front, holding a small jointing knife and lifting a corner of the sackcloth. Clerk Wang stood beside him, his brows knotted behind his spectacles.
Qin Tiexin set down the ingots and walked over. The crowd opened a gap, and he saw a corpse beneath the sackcloth-a Northern Di man. Most of his leather armor had been peeled back, exposing a hole the size of a bowl's mouth in his chest. The blood had long since congealed into a dark brown crust. But that was not what mattered. What mattered was the leather armor.
Zhou Cang scraped the surface of an armor plate with his knife tip, then turned it over to inspect the lining. The plate was thick and a dull brownish black, unlike ordinary tanned cowhide.
"Damn it," a pockmarked old craftsman beside him spat. "This leather... they've mixed something into it."
Clerk Wang pushed up his spectacles, his voice heavy. "The brothers coming back from the front said our arrows can't penetrate it."
A stir ran through the crowd.
The Northern Army relied on bow fire to suppress the enemy. Before the Northern Di cavalry could charge, they first had to weather several volleys of arrows. And now arrows could no longer penetrate their armor?
Zhou Cang stood, wiped his knife against his sole, and looked at Clerk Wang. "We need to change the arrowheads?"
"Yes." Clerk Wang nodded. "Orders straight from the grand general. He wants faster, sharper arrowheads with better armor penetration—Armor Piercing bodkins. A design within five days, and the first trial batch within ten."
The crowd grew even more unruly. Some shouted about adding weight, others suggested lengthening the heads, and still others insisted on cutting more blood grooves. They argued noisily, none able to convince the others.
The din gave Clerk Wang a headache. He slapped the table. "Quiet! Go back and think it over yourselves. Bring your samples for comparison in three days. We'll use whichever is best."
The crowd dispersed. Zhou Cang headed back, with Qin Tiexin following behind.
Inside the shed, Zhou Cang dropped onto a wooden stump, grabbed his wine gourd, and took a swig. Wiping his mouth, he said, "Armor Piercing bodkins... troublesome."
Qin Tiexin said nothing. He went to the water vat and scooped up a drink, but his mind was turning over something else.
Over the past few days, the archery entries in the Illustrated Catalog of Ten Thousand Artifacts had reached [6/10] without him noticing. Though they were not fully unlocked, those fragments of knowledge about arrowhead shapes, weight distribution, and the principles of armor penetration rolled through his mind like scattered pearls.
The Northern Di leather armor had grown harder without gaining much weight-that meant the plates had not become much thicker; the material itself had hardened. To pierce armor like that, an arrow had to be sharp enough, tough enough, and vicious enough.
He suddenly spoke. "Master Zhou, I'd like to try."
Zhou Cang gave him a sidelong look. "Ever made arrows?"
"No." Qin Tiexin shook his head honestly. "But... I don't think simply adding weight will work. A bow's draw strength is fixed. If the arrow's too heavy, it won't fly far. Just making it longer won't work either. It'll drift."
"Then what do you have in mind?"
Qin Tiexin crouched, picked up a piece of charcoal, and began drawing on the ground. First, he drew the triangular outline of an ordinary arrowhead, then altered it-extending the tip into a slender, three-edged shape and adding shallow blood grooves along the edges.
"Three edges, with grooves," he said. "That way, it leaves a bigger wound when it penetrates, and bleeds the target faster."
Zhou Cang leaned closer to look, saying nothing.
Qin Tiexin drew another line behind the arrowhead. "Shift the center of gravity forward a little. It'll fly steadier and strike harder."
"What about the material?" Zhou Cang asked.
"Hard iron on the outside to keep it sharp, with some soft steel in the core to prevent snapping." Qin Tiexin looked up. "Only... it'll need composite forging. That takes labor and material."
Zhou Cang stared at the charcoal drawing for a long while, then suddenly smiled-a rare sort of smile, with a hint of fierceness.
"All right," he said. "Let's try."
Over the next few days, the fire in the shed never went out.
Qin Tiexin forged iron by day and lay on his hard plank bed at night, sinking his consciousness into the Illusory Realm Hall. There was no real iron or fire there, but he could repeatedly simulate forging temperatures, force, and timing. He tested seventeen or eighteen ratios of hard iron to soft steel, different edge shapes, and how far forward to shift the center of gravity for the greatest stability.
On the third night, he withdrew from the illusory realm and stared open-eyed at the roof in the darkness. The catalog in his mind grew faintly warm, and beneath the archery entries, a small line of text vaguely emerged: [Composite Armor Piercing · Prototype].
At daybreak, he told Zhou Cang his new ideas-not only did the head need three grooved edges, but the curves between those edges needed slight adjustments to smooth the airflow. The blood grooves could not be too deep, or they would weaken it, nor too shallow, or they would be useless.
After listening, Zhou Cang scratched his tangled hair. "Come on. Let's ask Clerk Wang for materials."
Several people had already gathered outside the Craftsmen's Camp administrative office. All were veteran masters from the various groups, accompanied by apprentices and carrying arrowhead samples of every sort.
Clerk Wang was speaking with someone inside. Seeing Zhou Cang enter, he nodded. "Old Zhou, where's your design?"
Zhou Cang pushed Qin Tiexin forward. "It's his."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Several old masters exchanged doubtful looks. A lean, middle-aged craftsman in the corner scoffed-Master Sun from Second Section, Third Group. His apprentice stood beside him, a young man in his early twenties with a scar on his face.
"Master Zhou," Master Sun's apprentice spoke up in a shrill voice, "you're letting a green recruit make Armor Piercing bodkins? Making arrows takes more than brute strength."
Zhou Cang did not even lift his eyelids. "Can you forge a saber like his?"
The apprentice choked, his face flushing red.
Master Sun's expression darkened. "Old Zhou, that's no way to put it..."
"That's exactly how I'm putting it." Zhou Cang cut him off and turned to Clerk Wang. "Are you approving the materials or not? If not, we're leaving."
Clerk Wang looked at Qin Tiexin, then at Zhou Cang, and finally nodded. "Approved. But hurry. You only have seven days left."
The iron ingots they collected were stacked in a corner of the shed. Qin Tiexin began forging, with Zhou Cang helping beside him-the old man said nothing, but took on the most strenuous rough-forging work himself.
Composite forging was harder than he had imagined. Hard iron and soft steel had different melting points. Bringing them to just the right temperature to fuse without losing carbon demanded an exacting eye and control of the fire. Qin Tiexin tried three times. The first two attempts failed-either the hard iron had not fully fused, leaving gaps at the seams, or the soft steel had been overheated and lost its toughness.
On the third attempt, when the furnace reached an extremely high temperature, Qin Tiexin suddenly stopped.
"Something's wrong," he said.
Zhou Cang was working the bellows. He looked up. "What?"
"This temperature... the anvil can't take it." Qin Tiexin pointed at the anvil's surface, where fine cracks had already appeared. "We need a layer of refractory clay underneath."
Zhou Cang frowned. "We don't have any here. Ordinary yellow clay won't stand this heat."
Qin Tiexin thought for a moment. "I'll ask around."
He left the Craftsmen's Camp and headed to the storehouse. Sure enough, Lin Feng was there, bent over a table, writing and sketching. His eyes lit up when he saw Qin Tiexin. "Brother Qin! Collecting materials?"
"No," Qin Tiexin said. "I wanted to ask something. Do you know where I can find clay with good heat resistance? It has to withstand extremely high temperatures."
Lin Feng paused, set down his brush, and rubbed his chin in thought. "Refractory clay... everything used inside the pass comes from the mines to the west. But..." He lowered his voice. "A while back, when I was checking the accounts, I heard an old soldier hauling supplies mention some reddish-brown clay thirty li north beyond the pass, by the Black Pine Forest. The kiln workers occasionally dig some up."
"Where exactly?"
"Well..." Lin Feng scratched his head. "He only said it was beneath some cliffs at the eastern end of the Black Pine Forest. I've never been there myself." He looked at Qin Tiexin. "You're going? It's not close, and... the forest isn't safe."
"I have to," Qin Tiexin said.
Lin Feng hesitated for a moment, then suddenly stood. "I'll go with you."
Qin Tiexin looked at him. Lin Feng was thin and small, his uniform hanging loose, and did not look capable of walking far.
"I can manage." As though he had noticed Qin Tiexin's doubts, Lin Feng patted his chest. "I'm fairly good at finding my way, and... I know a little geomancy. That should make finding the clay quicker."
Qin Tiexin asked no more and nodded.
The next morning, the two left the pass before dawn.
The Black Pine Forest lay north of the pass, a vast, wild expanse of old woodland. In March, the trees had yet to turn fully green, their bare branches pointing toward the gray-white sky. The forest was frighteningly quiet, with only the rustle of their feet on years of fallen leaves.
After walking for much of the day, they finally spotted the cliffs Lin Feng had mentioned, close to noon. The cliff face was steep, with fallen rubble and soil heaped beneath it.
"This should be the place." Lin Feng panted, his face slick with sweat.
They searched along the foot of the cliff. Most of the soil was ordinary yellowish brown, with occasional patches of red, but whenever Qin Tiexin rubbed a pinch between his fingers and sniffed it, he shook his head-it was not heat-resistant enough.
They searched for nearly two hours, and the sun sank westward. Qin Tiexin was growing anxious. Only four days remained before the competition. If they found nothing today, there would not be enough time to think of another solution after returning.
Lin Feng had remained silent throughout. He moved closer to the cliff, crouched, and gently pressed his palm against an utterly unremarkable patch of gray-brown ground.
Qin Tiexin did not notice his actions, intent only on searching, until Lin Feng suddenly called to him. "Brother Qin, come look over here."
He walked over. Lin Feng pointed at a patch of soil before him. "Try this."
The soil was dark brown, mixed with tiny white grains, and looked little different from the earth around it. Qin Tiexin dug out a piece and crumbled it, feeling an unusual fineness against his fingertips. He held it beneath his nose-there was an extremely faint smell, something like lime.
"This clay..." He was puzzled.
"Give it a try," Lin Feng said, his gaze flickering slightly.
Qin Tiexin asked no more. He took out the small iron box he carried and filled it with clay. The two hurried back.
It was late at night when they returned to the Craftsmen's Camp. Qin Tiexin did not sleep. He immediately lit a small furnace, shaped the clay into a little crucible, and put it inside to fire.
The flames burned hotter and hotter. The crucible gradually changed from brown to dark red, yet showed no sign of cracking or crumbling. Eventually, the furnace grew so hot that ordinary clay would long since have melted into a puddle, but this clay crucible remained firm. A faint, glaze-like sheen even appeared on its surface.
Qin Tiexin stared at the crucible without speaking for a long time.
This clay's heat resistance was far too good. It was certainly not something "dug up at random beside the Black Pine Forest."
He raised his head and looked into the pitch-black night outside the shed. Lin Feng's thin face surfaced in his mind, along with the hands that always unconsciously retreated into his sleeves, and the burns on his fingertips.
After a long while, he shook his head and suppressed those thoughts. Now was not the time to think about this.
With the refractory clay, the forging went much more smoothly.
On the evening of the fourth day, the first composite Armor Piercing bodkin finally took shape. It had three edges, their lines flowing as though carved by a blade, and blood grooves of precisely the right depth. In the firelight, it gleamed with a cold, blue-black sheen.
Zhou Cang picked up the arrowhead, weighed it in his hand, then held it to the light to examine its seams. After a long inspection, he set it down and gave a low grunt.
"Did it work?" Qin Tiexin asked.
"We'll only know once we test it."
On the day of the competition, people crowded around the open ground in the Craftsmen's Camp. Clerk Wang sat behind a battered table, with four arrowheads laid out before him-Master Sun's heavy version, Master Li's elongated version, Master Zhao's multi-edged version, and Qin Tiexin's composite three-edged version.
The target was a piece of the new leather armor stripped from a Northern Di corpse, stretched over a wooden frame with thick straw matting behind it.
Master Sun's apprentice shot first. He drew a standard military bow to its full extent and released.
With a soft thud, the arrow struck the leather armor and stopped less than an inch into the flesh.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Master Li's long arrow flew steadily and sank an inch and a half deep, but still failed to penetrate.
Master Zhao's multi-edged arrow left a large wound, but only sank an inch deep.
It was Qin Tiexin's turn. As he drew the bow, everyone around him fell silent. The bow looked a size smaller in his hands, and the muscles in his drawing arm stood out in clear relief.
He released.
The arrow shot out like lightning, its whistle through the air short and sharp.
"Hiss-!"
A dull impact sounded. The entire arrowhead buried itself in the leather armor, then punched half a foot out the other side, sinking deep into the straw matting.
Not a sound.
Clerk Wang stood, walked to the target, and pulled the arrow out with force. The edges of the hole in the leather armor were clean, the three-edged wound gaping like an open mouth. He turned the armor over to examine the back-it had penetrated.
"The cost." Clerk Wang turned.
The accountant beside him worked his abacus. "Master Sun's arrows use the most material per arrow, totaling twelve wen; Master Li's, ten; Master Zhao's, nine; Qin..." He paused. "Master Qin's, eight and a half wen. But they require twenty percent more working time."
Clerk Wang pushed up his spectacles and looked at Qin Tiexin. "You are promoted to first-grade blacksmith, effective today. Your monthly pay increases by one string of cash."
A stir ran through the crowd. First-grade blacksmith was the lowest official rank in the Craftsmen's Camp, but at least it meant he had crossed the threshold. Such rapid promotion was rare for a recruit who had joined the camp less than two months ago.
"We'll make the Armor Piercing bodkins to your design," Clerk Wang continued. "I want the first ten thousand within ten days. Report any shortage of men or materials directly to me."
After finishing, he added, "Keep up the good work."
Qin Tiexin nodded without saying much. The looks directed at him were complicated-envy, jealousy, and resentment. He acted as though he saw none of them.
As the crowd dispersed, Zhou Cang came over and gave his shoulder a heavy pat.
"Kid," the old man said, "don't let it go to your head."
"Mm."
A few days later, the first batch of newly made Armor Piercing bodkins arrived on Li Zhenwei's desk.
The commander of the Formation-Breaking Camp was frowning over a map when his personal guard set a quiver of arrows on the table. "General, the Craftsmen's Camp's new Armor Piercing bodkins. They say these can pierce the Northern Di's new armor."
Li Zhenwei casually drew one out and weighed it in his hand, his eyes brightening slightly. He had never seen an arrowhead of this shape before: three edges with grooves, weighty in the hand without being cumbersome. He went into the courtyard, nocked an arrow, and fired a test shot. Fifty paces away, a half-inch-thick wooden board was pierced with a crack, the tip of the arrowhead actually protruding from the back.
"A fine arrow," he murmured.
He checked the brand near the arrow's tail: the tiny words "Third Seventh." Li Zhenwei paused, then suddenly remembered-the lad named Qin Tiexin seemed to be in Third Section, Seventh Group.
Military affairs had kept him so busy lately that he had nearly forgotten the man.
Li Zhenwei rubbed the arrowhead, his gaze returning to his desk-where a document outlining the selection procedures for the Formation-Breaking Camp reserves lay beneath a weight.
He stared at the document for a long time, then looked again at the arrow in his hand.
Finally, he gently slid the arrow back into the quiver, the corners of his mouth lifting in an exceedingly faint, almost imperceptible curve.