Tang Dynasty: Feeding Chang Le, Emperor Li Er exclaimed that she was a true immortal!

The Ministry of Works' efficiency exceeded Lu Ming's expectations.

After all, it was a project personally overseen by Li Shimin.

It took a total of twelve days from the issuance of the blueprints to the completion of the blast furnace.

In the northwest corner of the Imperial City Forbidden Garden, in a tightly sealed area, the first traditional blast furnace in the history of the Tang Dynasty rose from the ground.

The furnace body was built with refractory bricks and was about 1.5 feet high.

The outer wall was plastered with three thick layers of mud to prevent heat loss.

The furnace bottom has an iron tapping port and a slag discharge port.

Two huge cowhide bellows were set up next to them, operated by four strong men in turns.

The entire structure was extremely rudimentary.

Compared to modern steelmaking blast furnaces, this thing is like a stone stove built by primitive people.

But for the Tang Dynasty—

This represents a technological leap that spans over a thousand years.

On the day the furnace was opened, Li Shimin personally attended the ceremony.

Qin Shubao and Cheng Yaojin were also accompanying them.

These two most capable military generals of the Tang Dynasty were summoned by Li Shimin under the pretext of "having important matters to discuss".

They didn't know what to watch.

But when they saw the strange-looking brick kiln and the craftsmen standing guard around it, both of them looked puzzled.

"Your Majesty, what is this?" Cheng Yaojin circled the blast furnace twice, reaching out to touch the mud on the furnace wall. "Is it for firing kilns?"

"You'll see when you look." Li Shimin stood ten steps away, his hands behind his back, his expression strangely calm.

Duan Lun gave the order.

The craftsmen began to fill the furnace with pre-prepared coke and iron ore.

The method for making coke was also given by Lu Ming—burning charcoal at high temperature under sealed conditions to remove impurities and increase its calorific value.

The Tang Dynasty originally used ordinary charcoal.

The temperature of charcoal is not high enough to produce pig iron with a very high carbon content.

crisp.

It breaks easily.

But coke is different.

The combustion temperature of coke is several hundred degrees higher than that of charcoal, which is enough to burn off the impurities in iron ore and produce steel with extremely low carbon content.

This is the underlying logic behind the line on the blueprint, "Steel is a hundred times stronger than iron."

It's not some kind of magic.

It's not some kind of magic.

Pure chemistry and physics.

Ignition of the furnace.

Four strong men began to pull the bellows.

Thick leather tubes continuously pumped air into the bottom of the furnace.

The color of the flames began to change from an initial orange-red.

It gets darker.

It becomes brighter.

It's getting brighter and brighter.

It changed from orange-red to bright yellow.

It changed from bright yellow to a glaring white.

That's a color that only appears at temperatures exceeding 1,000 degrees Celsius.

The entire blast furnace resembled an awakened iron beast, radiating a suffocating heat wave.

People ten steps away could feel the scorching heat coming at them.

Cheng Yaojin subconsciously took a step back.

Qin Shubao did not back down, but his brows furrowed.

He's a knife enthusiast.

They have an instinctive sensitivity to the heat.

He could feel that the temperature inside this furnace was higher than that of any blacksmith shop in the Tang Dynasty.

Much higher.

Time passed little by little.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

The artisans took turns working twice.

The bellows never stopped.

The ore and coke inside the furnace are undergoing a violent reaction at extremely high temperatures.

Iron oxide in iron ore is reduced to pure iron by carbon in coke.

Excess carbon is oxidized and discharged at high temperatures.

Harmful impurities such as sulfur and phosphorus are adsorbed by the limestone added to the furnace.

What remained in the end—

It's steel.

The third hour has ended.

Duan Lun stepped forward and used an iron hook to break the seal on the iron outlet.

A stream of dark red liquid gushed out from the taphole.

It's not molten iron.

Molten iron is grayish-white, has poor fluidity, and is prone to solidification.

This stuff is dark red, with a flowing, viscous, lava-like texture.

Molten steel.

It flowed slowly along the pre-dug sand channel and poured into a long, narrow clay mold.

A heat wave surged.

The air itself was distorted by the heat.

Everyone present instinctively took a few steps back.

Only Li Shimin stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the flowing dark red molten steel.

The firelight reflected on his face, creating alternating light and shadow, and deep within his pupils burned something even more intense than the fire in the furnace.

The mold is full.

cool down.

The craftsmen poured cold water on it, and steam hissed and rose up.

After an incense stick had burned, the mold was smashed.

A dark gray steel billet lay amidst the rubble.

The craftsmen used tongs to pick up the steel billet, placed it on an anvil, and began forging.

The clanging sound of hammers echoed through the forbidden garden.

I don't know how many times I hammered it.

The final product was a plain, straight-bladed sword.

There were no carvings, no decorations, and even the handle was simply wrapped with coarse cloth.

Ox.

It's extremely ugly.

Compared to the exquisitely decorated standard-issue Mo Dao in the Tang Dynasty's armory, this thing looked like a piece of junk that a blacksmith's apprentice hammered out while practicing.

But when the craftsman handed the knife to Duan Lun, Duan Lun's expression changed.

"Heavy."

He only said one word.

This knife is nearly 30% heavier than a hundred-refined iron knife of the same size.

But the increase in weight is not due to the large volume, but rather because of the high density.

Steel has a higher density than pig iron.

For knives of the same size, steel knives are heavier, harder, and less likely to break.

Duan Lun flicked the blade with his fingernail.

Ding--

A metallic sound so crisp it makes your teeth ache.

The lingering sound echoed for several breaths in the open space.

The sound of the iron knife popping out was a dull "hum".

The sound of the steel knife popping out was a clear "ding".

The sound of the "ding" made everyone in the know change their expressions.

Qin Shubao stepped forward.

He took the ugly horizontal sword from Duan Lun and held it horizontally in front of him.

I tested the blade with my thumb.

It was a very light swipe.

Blood beads immediately appeared.

He didn't even feel any pain.

Because the blade is too thin and too sharp.

There is no resistance when it cuts into the skin and flesh.

Qin Shubao's pupils contracted.

He used knives for half his life.

What kind of fine swords haven't he seen? He's used all the top-tier sword materials that the Tang Dynasty could obtain, including refined steel, wrought iron, and wootz steel.

But no blade can be that sharp.

He gripped the knife hilt, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

"Test the knife!"

His voice was a little hoarse.

Cheng Yaojin couldn't wait any longer.

This burly, mischievous devil ripped open his outer robe, revealing the armor underneath—no, he wasn't wearing armor today.

He pulled open his outer robe to make it easier to move around.

"Let me do it!"

Cheng Yaojin strode to the weapon rack and grabbed his own Hundred-Refined Iron Saber.

That knife had been with him for over twenty years.

They fought their way from Wagangzhai to Luoyang, and from Luoyang to Chang'an.

The wear marks on the blade, like tree rings, record countless bloody battles.

It was his most reliable weapon.

It is also the best knife that the Tang Dynasty could currently produce.

"Come on, come on! Look at Old Cheng!"

Cheng Yaojin spread his legs apart and assumed a horse stance.

He gripped the handle of the iron sword with both hands and raised it high above his head.

His arms were bulging with muscles that looked like two lumps of iron.

Then--

Roar--

A loud shout.

Cheng Yaojin swung his sword with all his might, slashing fiercely at the new steel sword on the shelf.

He used all his strength.

Give it your all, without reservation.

The moment the two blades clashed—

Ding--! !

A deafening metallic clang rang out.

It was so sharp that everyone instinctively shrank their necks.

Cheng Yaojin felt a terrifying recoil force travel from the blade to his arms.

A tearing pain in the tiger's mouth.

His fingers loosened uncontrollably.

The Hundred-Refined Iron Blade flew out of his hand, spinning as it crashed into a pillar three zhang away.

With a clang, it was driven into the wood.

Cheng Yaojin's hands were trembling.

The area between the thumb and forefinger has cracked open and is bleeding.

But he didn't have time to look at his injuries.

His gaze was fixed intently on the shelf.

That ugly new steel knife—

Not moving.

There are no bends.

There was no fold.

It didn't even deviate by an inch.

He ran over and took a closer look.

The point where the two blades intersected, on the side of the steel blade—

There wasn't a single scratch.

Smooth and mirror-like.

Cheng Yaojin turned his head to look at his Su Tie Dao, which had been thrown out of his hand.

On the blade of Sutetsu—

A huge, shocking gap.

The shattered steel filings were scattered all over the ground.

Cheng Yaojin's mouth remained open for a long time.

His expression changed from shock to bewilderment, and then from bewilderment to a complex emotion that was hard to describe.

A knife that I've used for over twenty years.

The best materials from the Tang Dynasty.

The best craftsman.

With one slash, it shattered.

The new, ugly knife on the other side didn't even leave a white mark.

"What...what the hell is this demonic sword?!"

Cheng Yaojin's voice cracked.

Qin Shubao remained silent.

He stepped forward, reached out his hands, and took the steel knife from the shelf.

Hold it in your hands.

His movements were extremely solemn.

It's like holding a sacred artifact enshrined in a temple.

Qin Shubao looked down at his reflection in the blade.

A face etched with deep wrinkles.

A chin covered in stubble.

His temples were already gray.

He fought wars his whole life.

From the chaos at the end of the Sui Dynasty to the peace of the Zhenguan era.

He knew what a good knife meant.

It means survival.

It means killing the enemy.

This means that on the most desperate battlefield, the knife in your hand is harder and sharper than the one on the other side.

You will be able to come back alive.

He gripped the knife handle tightly.

I strained so hard my knuckles turned white.

Then, this iron-willed man, who had spent half his life in the military and shed countless blood—

Holding the cold steel knife, he pressed the blade against his stubble-covered cheek.

The cool, metallic touch pressed against my skin.

He closed his eyes.

Two streams of tears slid down from the corners of his eyes and flowed into the gaps in his stubble.

No sound.

Silent tears.

When Cheng Yaojin saw Qin Shubao crying, he was completely dumbfounded.

He had known Qin Shubao for decades and had never seen this iron man shed a tear.

He never cried even after having three ribs cut off on the battlefield.

I never cried when my own brother died on the battlefield.

But today, I held a knife and cried.

Cheng Yaojin opened his mouth, as if to say something.

But looking at Qin Shubao's appearance, he suddenly couldn't say anything.

Because he understands.

Qin Shubao was not crying over the knife.

It is a lament for all those brothers who died on the battlefield because their swords were not good enough or their armor was not strong enough.

If such a knife existed back then.

How many fewer people could die?

Li Shimin stood at a distance, watching this scene.

His expression was calm.

But the fist clenched behind his back cracked loudly at the knuckles.