He turned to Shopkeeper Wu. “I agreed to this, but I acted on behalf of the Murong Trading House. Are you sure it was the right call?”
Shopkeeper Wu chuckled, stroking his beard. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve done the same.” His expression turned serious. “A request from Governor Kong isn’t something we can easily refuse. Besides, earning favors from both the academy and the governor could prove useful in the future.”
Zhao Ming exhaled and nodded. "That’s true. But working on a weapon of this scale requires knowledge we might not have. Do we even have a blacksmith or weaponsmith experienced with crossbows?"
Shopkeeper Wu leaned back, rubbing his chin in thought. "The Murong Trading House specializes in metal weapons—swords, spears, and armor. Crossbows are another matter. We don’t produce them regularly, but…"
He paused, recalling something. “We do have some craftsmen who work with bows and other hunting weapons. They might not be master crossbow-makers, but at the very least, they’ll understand the principles.”
Zhao Ming nodded slowly, processing the information. Even if their expertise was limited, it was a starting point. Besides, he had an advantage others didn’t—his [Insight] ability.
His eyes flickered with determination. If no one else can refine this weapon, maybe I can.
“I’ll take a look at the crossbow myself once it arrives,” Zhao Ming said. “If necessary, I’ll help oversee the modifications.”
Shopkeeper Wu raised an eyebrow. “You? Since when did you become a weaponsmith?”
Zhao Ming smirked. “I learn fast.”
Shopkeeper Wu laughed and shook his head. “That, I won’t doubt. Very well, we’ll prepare for the delivery. Let’s just hope we’re not biting off more than we can chew.”
Zhao Ming tapped his fingers on the wooden table, deep in thought. “We can’t just wait for the crossbow to arrive and figure things out later. We need to prepare in advance—workspace, craftsmen, and keeping this under wraps.”
Shopkeeper Wu stroked his beard. “Agreed. We can’t risk word getting out, or we might have nobles and rival merchants sniffing around.”
Zhao Ming nodded. “First, the workshop. We need a secure place to work on the modifications, away from prying eyes.”
Shopkeeper Wu pondered for a moment. “We have a smaller smithing station at the back of the trading house. Normally, it’s used for bow repairs and arrow crafting, but it’s secluded enough. We can clear it out and use it for this.”
Zhao Ming smirked. “That works. We’ll make sure only trusted workers have access. Now, for the craftsmen. We’ll need a skilled blacksmith for the metal components and someone who understands bows.”
Shopkeeper Wu’s eyes lit up. “Uncle Qian.”
Zhao Ming raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“An old bowyer who works with us. He’s been crafting bows and crossbows for years—one of the best. The problem is, he’s stubborn. He doesn’t like working on military weapons. Says war makes people forget the value of hunting,” Shopkeeper Wu explained with a sigh.
Zhao Ming chuckled. “That’s going to be a problem.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Shopkeeper Wu offered. “He owes me a favor. If I frame this as ‘improving hunting tools,’ he might be willing to help.”
Zhao Ming smirked. “Good thinking. And for the metalwork?”
“We need someone precise. A regular blacksmith won’t do—crossbows have delicate mechanisms,” Shopkeeper Wu said thoughtfully. “I’d say Wen Tao. He’s a young apprentice, usually working on dagger engravings. Steady hands, sharp mind.”
Zhao Ming nodded in approval. “Sounds like we have a team—Uncle Qian for the bow mechanism, Wen Tao for the metalwork. You’ll talk to Uncle Qian, and I’ll make sure we get everything set up before the weapon arrives.”
Shopkeeper Wu smirked. “You’re starting to sound like a proper merchant.”
Zhao Ming chuckled. “I just don’t like wasting time.”
Shopkeeper Wu clapped his hands. “Alright then, I’ll handle the preparations. When the crossbow arrives, we’ll be ready.”
Zhao Ming exhaled. This wasn’t just about a weapon—it was an opportunity. If he played this right, it could change more than just the battlefield.
A few days passed as the Murong Trading House made its preparations. The workshop had been cleared, tools gathered, and only trusted workers were allowed near the area. Shopkeeper Wu had spoken with Uncle Qian, who—after much grumbling—finally agreed to help, and Wen Tao eagerly prepared himself for the work ahead. Everything was set, yet the wait stretched on.
Then, one morning, a messenger from the academy arrived at the trading house, his robes still dusty from travel. He wasted no time, bowing slightly before addressing Shopkeeper Wu and Zhao Ming.
“The cargo will arrive today,” the messenger announced. “The scholars will bring it in the afternoon. Please make the necessary preparations.”
Shopkeeper Wu gave a knowing smile. “We’ve been ready for days. Tell them we’ll be expecting them.”
The messenger nodded before departing, leaving a sense of anticipation in the air. By midday, the Murong Trading House bustled with quiet activity. Workers moved discreetly to clear paths for the incoming cargo. A few trusted guards positioned themselves at key locations, while Shopkeeper Wu ensured that the private chamber for the meeting was well-secured.
As the afternoon sun hung high, a group of academy scholars finally arrived—escorted by a small group of guards carrying a sealed wooden crate. But what truly caught Zhao Ming’s attention was the presence of a familiar figure leading them.
Lu Zhi.
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The esteemed scholar-general carried his usual calm, authoritative presence, his piercing eyes sweeping the surroundings as if always measuring something unseen.
Yet, beside him stood a woman Zhao Ming had never seen before.
She was young, possibly in her mid-twenties, dressed in fine but practical robes. Unlike the other scholars, who carried themselves with scholarly elegance, she had an air of sharp awareness—her gaze assessing everyone in the room with a calculating look. Though she walked beside Lu Zhi, her posture wasn’t that of a mere attendant.
Zhao Ming’s curiosity sparked. Who is she? I never saw her when I met Lu Zhi at the governor’s office.
As they entered the trading house, Lu Zhi wasted no time. “We’ll discuss the details inside. Secure the perimeter.”
At his command, the guards moved swiftly, taking positions outside the private chamber. Within moments, the trading house was locked down. Only those involved in the matter would be allowed in.
Zhao Ming exchanged a glance with Shopkeeper Wu before following Lu Zhi and his group into the meeting room. This was no ordinary delivery.
Inside the private chamber, the air was tense. The scholars, craftsmen, and guards all understood the weight of secrecy behind this meeting.
Lu Zhi took the lead, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. “Before we begin, I must remind everyone—this matter is not to be spoken of outside these walls. The development of this weapon must remain a secret, or we risk it falling into the wrong hands.”
A murmur of agreement passed through the gathered men. Zhao Ming nodded.
One of the scholars stepped forward, holding a wooden case. “We’ve been working on the crossbow ever since it arrived from Penglai. We’ve taken it apart, studied its structure, and rebuilt it multiple times. So far, we’ve managed to create a functional single-shot crossbow.”
He carefully unlatched the case, revealing two crossbows—one appearing older and slightly worn, while the other was newly crafted, its wood and metal pristine.
“However,” the scholar continued, “the records claim that this crossbow is capable of firing multiple arrows in rapid succession. We cannot figure out how that mechanism works.”
He gestured toward the duplicated crossbow, then carefully detached a small wooden and metal component from its upper section. “This is what we believe to be the key to the mechanism, but our attempts to recreate its function have failed.”
Zhao Ming stepped closer, his eyes drawn to the original crossbow. He reached out and took it into his hands, feeling its weight and balance. The wood was old but well-maintained, the drawstring taut, and the trigger mechanism oddly structured.
A voice scoffed from the side.
“And what exactly can he do that we cannot?”
Zhao Ming turned his head slightly. The words had come from Lu Zhi’s assistant—the woman who had accompanied him. She stood with her arms crossed, her eyes sharp with skepticism.
Before Zhao Ming could respond, Lu Zhi’s expression hardened. “Be quiet.”
The woman pressed her lips together but said nothing more. Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes slightly. Interesting.
Lu Zhi sighed. “Forgive her. She is my daughter, Lu Qianyi. She speaks her mind more than she should.”
Zhao Ming simply nodded before shifting his focus back to the crossbow. He tightened his grip slightly, activating his [Insight] ability.
A faint shimmer passed over his vision as the system provided him with information.
Repeating Crossbow
A specialized mechanical crossbow capable of firing multiple arrows in rapid succession. The firing mechanism involves an auto-loading magazine system.
His eyes flashed with realization. A repeating crossbow—that explained the confusion. The scholars had been treating it like a standard single-shot crossbow when its true function relied on a magazine-based reloading system.
Zhao Ming activated [Weapon Design], further analyzing the structure.
Critical Issues Detected:
- Missing gear in the loading mechanism.
- Magazine misaligned, preventing smooth arrow feeding.
Zhao Ming exhaled slowly. That’s the problem. The mechanism is incomplete.
Uncle Qian ran his calloused fingers along the frame of the crossbow, his experienced gaze tracing each component with careful scrutiny. Beside him, Wen Tao squinted at the detached mechanism the scholars had presented, tilting it slightly under the dim lamplight.
“This… is unlike anything I’ve ever worked with,” Uncle Qian finally muttered. “The design is intricate, too precise for ordinary craftsmanship.”
Wen Tao nodded in agreement. “The main issue I see is the firing mechanism. A standard crossbow releases a single arrow when the trigger is pulled, but this one—if the records are correct—is meant to shoot multiple arrows in succession.” He tapped his finger on the separated piece of wood and metal. “This is supposed to be the key to that, but it’s… incomplete.”
One of the scholars adjusted his sleeves and cleared his throat. “We believe this component is what loads and releases the arrows. But when we reconstructed the weapon, it only worked as a normal crossbow. Something is missing.”
Another scholar chimed in. “We’ve examined the records from Penglai and the original documents that describe this weapon, but there are inconsistencies. Some descriptions suggest it was used effectively in battle, while others say the mechanism often jammed.”
Uncle Qian frowned. “If it jammed, then there was likely a flaw in the alignment.” He turned to Wen Tao. “What do you think?”
Wen Tao took the duplicated crossbow and tested its draw weight. “Structurally, it holds up well. The tension on the string feels right. But if this was meant to fire multiple arrows, it should have an automatic reloading system. Without that, you’d need to manually place each arrow.”
Zhao Ming, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke. “That’s exactly the problem. The design isn’t meant to be a single-shot crossbow at all.”
The scholars turned to him, curiosity flickering in their eyes.
“What do you mean?” one of them asked.
Zhao Ming set the original crossbow down and gestured toward the magazine-like attachment. “This isn’t just a storage compartment. It’s supposed to feed arrows into the chamber. If it was working correctly, every time the user pulled the trigger, another arrow would drop into place and be fired immediately.”
The scholars exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves.
Uncle Qian rubbed his chin. “That makes sense. But if the design is flawed—”
Zhao Ming interrupted, “It’s not just flawed. It’s incomplete.” He picked up the separated mechanism and pointed at the small grooves. “There’s supposed to be a gear here to control the reloading. And the magazine needs to be realigned so the arrows can feed properly.”
Wen Tao leaned in. “A gear? That would mean it’s a mechanical reload system, not just a gravity-fed one.”
A younger scholar’s eyes widened. “That would explain why it doesn’t function properly! We thought it was just a normal arrow compartment.”
Lu Zhi, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke. “So you’re saying the mechanism we received was already missing pieces?”
Zhao Ming nodded. “Yes. Either the original craftsman didn’t finish it, or some parts were lost over time.”
Lu Zhi’s expression darkened. “Then this means we will need to reconstruct it properly.”
Uncle Qian let out a breath. “That’s not going to be easy. If this was made by a master craftsman, it means the original design is far beyond what most blacksmiths are capable of.”
Wen Tao added, “And if the missing parts are custom-made, we’ll need to figure out their exact specifications before we can reproduce them.”
One of the scholars hesitated before speaking. “We might be able to find clues in the old blueprints… but they are vague. Without a working prototype, it will be difficult.”
Zhao Ming exhaled. “We don’t need to rely solely on the old records. We now know what’s missing, and we have craftsmen skilled enough to recreate the parts. It’ll take trial and error, but it’s possible.”
Lu Zhi’s daughter, Lu Qianyi, who had remained silent after being scolded earlier, scoffed. “And what makes you so sure you can fix something even our scholars couldn’t?”
Zhao Ming met her gaze calmly. “Because now, we know why it doesn’t work.”
Lu Zhi gave his daughter a sharp glance, silencing her again. Then, he turned back to Zhao Ming. “If you believe it can be done, then prove it.”
Zhao Ming nodded. “We will. But to keep this secret, all work must be done here at the Murong Trading House. Too many eyes are on the academy, and we don’t want word getting out.”
Lu Zhi considered this, then nodded. “Very well. We will leave the reconstruction in your hands. But be warned—this crossbow may change the future of warfare. If it falls into the wrong hands, it could cause unimaginable destruction.”
Uncle Qian crossed his arms. “Then we’d best make sure it’s in the right hands first.”
The meeting ended with a new determination—Murong Trading House would take on the challenge of rebuilding the lost mechanics of the repeating crossbow.