Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

He also attempted to manufacture several muskets.

This is a more complex project, requiring precise iron pipe processing and gunpowder loading techniques.

Lin Fan has theoretical knowledge, but lacks practical experience.

He rolled wrought iron sheets into a cylindrical shape, repeatedly forged them to make a rough gun barrel, and then attached a wooden stock and a simple firing device.

During the test firing, the musket fired successfully, spraying iron pellets dozens of paces away and piercing through a thin wooden board.

However, the gun barrel started to crack after only a dozen or so tests, posing a safety hazard.

"It still needs improvement," Lin Fan said to Li Zicheng, who had come to watch the spectacle. "The iron is subpar, and the forging technique is also inadequate. We need better iron and better craftsmen."

Li Zicheng was not disappointed; on the contrary, he was pleasantly surprised: "As long as it works. We can't even make a sound right now, so you've come up with something that works. This is the first time we've done this."

He ordered his men to store the muskets away, preparing to test them in the next battle.

Lin Fan knew that this was just the beginning.

The road to developing firearms is still long, requiring more experimentation, more materials, and more patience.

But he wasn't in a hurry.

He has time, knowledge, and gradually accumulating experience.

More importantly, he had a leader who was willing to give him opportunities and trust him.

---

A month later, Li Zicheng's troops received news—

The main force of the government troops is gathering in the direction of Bao'an County, intending to encircle and suppress the peasant army in this area.

Meanwhile, Wang Jiayin's troops suffered a heavy defeat in the south, and the remnants are fleeing north.

Li Zicheng summoned his leaders to discuss the matter.

The atmosphere inside the tent was heavy.

"The government troops are not here with good intentions." Gu Jun'en pointed to the map. "Du Wenhuan has mobilized three thousand soldiers, plus local militia from various counties, making a total of no less than five thousand. We only have a few hundred men; a head-on confrontation would be suicide."

"Then let's run," Liu Zongmin said. "Let's go into the mountains and play hide-and-seek with them. Northern Shaanxi is so big, how can they possibly search it all?"

"Running away isn't a long-term solution," Li Zicheng shook his head. "We can run for a while, but not forever. We need a stable territory; we can't keep going around in circles in the mountains."

"Territory..." Gu Jun'en smiled bitterly, "Northern Shaanxi is a poor place, where would we get territory? We can't even take down a county town."

Silence fell over the tent for a moment.

Lin Fan sat in the corner, having no right to speak, and simply listened silently.

He knew this was the most typical predicament of the peasant army in its early stages—

Without a base or stable supplies, and constantly pursued and attacked by government troops, they could only wander around.

History books state that Li Zicheng ultimately grew stronger through strategies of "dividing troops and directing them to different directions" and "mobile warfare."

But that happened later.

Right now, he's just a small-time "trailblazer" struggling to survive in the cracks.

"Master Lin," Li Zicheng suddenly called out to him.

Lin Fan raised his head.

"How much gunpowder can you make?" Li Zicheng asked.

Lin Fan thought for a moment: "If we have enough raw materials, we can produce thirty or forty catties in ten days. But that won't work; we don't have enough manpower or tools."

"Thirty or forty catties..." Li Zicheng pondered, "What can that be used for?"

"We can make dozens of 'earthquake bombs'—those bamboo tubes or pottery jars that can explode," Lin Fan said. "We can also load powder into muskets. Or, we can make some simple landmines and caltrops."

"A deafening thunderbolt..." Gu Jun'en's eyes lit up. "Master Lin, can you guarantee that thing will really explode? How powerful is it?"

"I can't guarantee it," Lin Fan said truthfully. "The raw materials are impure, the craftsmanship is rough, and the quality of each batch is different. Some may explode loudly, while others may just be duds. But as long as they explode, they will be a deterrent to the government troops. Their horses have never seen this thing before and are easily startled."

"Then let's make them," Li Zicheng decided. "Make as many as we can. Mr. Gu will figure out the raw materials. Master Lin, you do your best to speed up the production."

"Yes," Lin Fan replied.

He knew that Li Zicheng was gambling—

They gambled that those crude and unstable "thunderclap bombs" could play a crucial role at a critical moment, disrupting the government troops' deployment and giving the troops a chance to survive.

And he was the one who created the "gambling equipment".

---

After the meeting, Lin Fan did not immediately return to the blacksmith shop, but stood at the edge of the camp, gazing at the distant mountains.

The setting sun dyed the sky a dark red, like congealed blood.

The wind blew in from the north, carrying a bone-chilling cold and a faint, almost imperceptible, rusty smell of blood.

Han Jinhu walked over and stood beside him.

"Brother Lin, do you think... we can win?"

Lin Fan did not answer.

he does not know.

All he knew was that in this cannibalistic world, simply being alive was a victory.

He will do everything in his power to ensure that he and those around him live to see tomorrow's sunrise.

Even the sun was blood red.

---

In the distant camp, the flag bearing the character "闯" (Chuang, meaning "Breakthrough") fluttered in the twilight.

The ink characters on the flag resemble an inextinguishable flame, stubbornly burning in the darkness.

Lin Fan withdrew his gaze and turned to walk towards the blacksmith's shop.

The fire is still burning; they need him.

The brothers are still waiting for weapons; they need him.

Li Zicheng was still counting on those "earth-shaking thunderbolts" and needed him.

He can't stop.

They have no right to stop.

In this chaotic world, to stop is to die.

But he still wanted to live.

We hope to live to see that "Breakthrough" flag, and plant it in more places.

To live to see the weapons he created cleave a bloody path on the battlefield.

To live to witness this cannibalistic world is utterly upended.

Alive.

That's it.

---

Lin Fan's days in the camp were like iron in a furnace, being repeatedly forged and gradually taking shape.

He was no longer the newly arrived "Lin Langzhong" who needed to be examined.

He was "Master Lin"—a recognized weapons expert in the camp, and the "head craftsman" personally appointed by Li Zicheng.

Every day before dawn, he would lead Han Jinhu and more than twenty craftsmen and apprentices to work in the blacksmith shop.

The furnace fire burned day and night, and the clanging of hammers echoed from dawn till dusk along the edge of the camp.

The hissing white steam during quenching condenses into white mist in the cold air, like wisps of wandering ghosts.

Weapons were manufactured in batches—

Knives, spearheads, arrowheads, scabbards, spear shafts, and occasionally a few crude muskets and several "thunderbolts" filled with gunpowder.

Everything was personally inspected by Lin Fan.

Those that pass are marked and distributed to the soldiers.

Those that fail to meet the standards will be sent back for rework; they will never be allowed to end up on the battlefield.

"Master Lin, the blade of this knife is a bit soft." Han Jinhu handed over a waist knife that had just been quenched, his face showing apology.

Lin Fan took the knife, tested the blade with his finger, and then tapped the blade with his knuckles.

The sound was muffled and hoarse, unlike the crisp and resonant sound of a fine knife.

"The water temperature wasn't controlled properly during quenching," Lin Fan said. "We have to reheat it and quench it again."

Han Jinhu nodded and turned to handle the matter.

A new apprentice nearby muttered under his breath, "It's just a little soft, it can be used after some grinding..."

Lin Fan heard this, turned his head, and looked at the apprentice.

The young man lowered his head under his gaze.

"It might work elsewhere," Lin Fan's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear. "But not here. The knives we make are for beheading government troops. If the knives are too soft, they won't cut, they'll bend, and our brothers will bleed. Are you willing to let your brothers die because you're lazy?"

The apprentice blushed and shook his head repeatedly.

"Then let's redo it." Lin Fan said no more and continued to check the next one.

Such scenes happen almost every day.

Lin Fan is extremely demanding when it comes to craftsmanship, but he never scolds people or puts on airs.

He simply explained the principles, over and over again, until everyone understood—

They are not making ironware, they are building a path to survival.

Over time, the craftsmen not only respected him but also admired him.

Han Jinhu became his most capable assistant, not only able to complete most of the procedures independently, but also able to mentor apprentices, thus relieving a lot of pressure.

Tian Ergou was still running errands, but the area he covered had expanded, and he came into contact with more people.

Who still has relatives in their hometown, who has conflicts with whom, who is loyal to Li Zicheng, who complains in private... all these messages kept reaching Lin Fan's ears through Tian Ergou.

Lin Fan never inquired about it proactively, nor did he spread the word.

He simply listened and took it all in, like iron filings by a furnace, slowly accumulating until the day he needed it.