Chapter Thirty-Two: Primitive Steelmaking

“Master, allow me to present these horses to you. The fiery red one is named Wildfire; when it runs, it resembles a raging blaze, hence the name. The two jet-black ones are called Black Steeds. It is said that the legendary Xiang Yu, famed for his unmatched strength, rode a horse of the same breed. As for the one you are riding, it is known as Golden-Hoof Lightning, noble and extraordinary—only someone such as yourself could hope to tame him. The final horse, pure white as snow, is called the Midnight Jade Lion. Its spirit is fierce, its strength boundless, and few men could ever master it.” The stable hand introduced each horse in turn.

As Liu Yao listened to the names, a wave of surprise washed over him. These steeds were renowned throughout history. The Black Steeds needed no introduction—Xiang Yu’s mount, and even, as it was said, Zhang Fei of history rode one. As for why Taishi Ci also favored a Black Steed, that was a mystery—perhaps he was inspired by Zhang Fei’s example. Wildfire, too, had been the mount of Huang Zhong, making this a fitting return to its original master. Golden-Hoof Lightning was once among Cao Cao’s prized mounts; after every victory, Cao Cao would ride it home in triumph, a symbol of his grandeur.

And the last, the Midnight Jade Lion—Liu Yao could not help but think of a certain figure: Zhao Yun, the fearless warrior of Changshan, known as Zhao Zilong. But at this moment, Zhao Yun was likely still training in arms under the tutelage of the spear master Tong Yuan, not yet stepped into the world. There was no way for Liu Yao to seek out this most admired general for now.

After collecting the spoils of victory, Liu Yao dined heartily with his generals, celebrating the New Year’s Eve with laughter and camaraderie. When the festivities ended, he slipped away to his chamber alone.

Liu Yao stared anxiously at the ancient tattooed script on his arm. Time ticked by, minute by minute. Suddenly, the tattoo glowed a familiar green, transforming into a book that dropped into his palm.

“Please proceed with this round of the lottery,” the script on the cover announced, as usual.

Familiar with the process, Liu Yao closed his eyes and silently intoned, “Begin,” then, “Stop.” Instantly, the book flashed green once more before settling into stillness.

With anticipation, Liu Yao opened to the eighth page. Four bold characters greeted his eyes: “Primitive Steelmaking.”

He burst into delighted laughter. “Ha! Just what I wished for! I was only lamenting that, though Huang Zhong and the others had the finest warhorses, they lacked worthy weapons. Now, as if sleep delivered a pillow, my urgent need is answered!”

“Your lottery chance is used up. Please await the next draw,” the book displayed, before dissolving into green light and returning to his arm.

Liu Yao paid the tattoo no further heed, his mind now consumed with thoughts of steelmaking. Yet another worry arose—the method was his, but he lacked the most crucial element: iron ore.

Though Youzhou had abundant iron mines, they would require time to exploit, and with ancient mining methods, the pace could never match Liu Yao’s ambitions. Frustration gnawed at him.

Suddenly, inspiration flashed in his mind, and he murmured two names: “Su Shuang, Zhang Shiping.”

These men, though little-known in history, were deeply entwined with a figure of great renown, for their assistance was key to his rise: Liu Bei, one of Liu Yao’s own rivals.

When the Yellow Turban Rebellion broke out, it was Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping who supplied Liu Bei with horses and refined iron, enabling him to raise over a thousand men. With their support, he won some merit in the campaign and earned his reputation.

A sly smile curled Liu Yao’s lips. “Well, Liu Bei, without Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping to back you, I wonder how you’ll carve out your fortune from the Yellow Turban chaos. As for the two of you, if you cooperate, I’ll spare you; if not… hmph.”

The next morning, Liu Yao ordered that Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping be brought before him at the governor’s residence. Both were minor celebrities in Youzhou, so it was easy to locate and summon them.

Led by a herald, the two men followed with heavy, anxious steps. After all, the governor of Youzhou, Liu Yao, was a man of eminent rank and a fearsome reputation—a butcher who had annihilated nine-tenths of the Wuhuan invaders from a force of fifty thousand.

Guilt breeds fear—a clear conscience never dreads the knock at midnight. The pair trembled, for dealing in weapons and refined iron was a capital crime. They had long relied on bribes to lesser officials to protect their trade, but now they faced the highest authority—those old patrons could not shield them.

The herald ushered Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping into the council hall, where Liu Yao sat elevated in the chief seat, Shi A standing beside him, radiating an aura that warned all to keep their distance.

“So, you are Zhang Shiping and Su Shuang,” Liu Yao said, his gaze authoritative and cold.

The pair dropped to their knees and bowed. “Your humble servants Su Shuang (Zhang Shiping) pay respects to the Governor.”

Liu Yao sipped his tea and glanced at them. “Do you know why I have summoned you?”

“We do not, my lord,” they quavered, cold sweat soaking their backs.

“Hmph.” Liu Yao’s snort was sharp as he dashed his teacup to the ground, shattering it with a clang. “You claim ignorance? Tell me, do you not realize that illicitly trading weapons in the Han is a crime punishable by death?!”

“Spare us, my lord! Have mercy!” The two immediately prostrated and begged for their lives—proving the old adage: the richer a man, the more he fears death. These two were the very model of that truth.

Seeing that his intimidation had taken effect, Liu Yao relented. “If you wish to live, it is not impossible... but—” He let the sentence hang.

Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping, veterans of the merchant world, understood instantly. They exchanged a glance, nodded, and gritted their teeth. “If the Governor will spare our humble lives, all our possessions are yours.”

“Very good. Since you know when to yield, I will not trouble you further.” Liu Yao’s tone softened. “But I do not want your wealth. I require only two things.”

The two were stunned. “Please instruct us, my lord. Whatever we have, it is yours.”

“First, I want all the refined iron and iron ore in your possession.”

“No problem, my lord. We have hundreds of thousands of catties of iron ore and nearly a thousand catties of refined iron—all of it is yours.” Su Shuang agreed without hesitation; after all, what were these things compared to their lives?

Liu Yao nodded in satisfaction. “Second, I want you both to serve under me.”

Su Shuang and Zhang Shiping were among the top merchants in the land—not quite the equal of the Mi family of Xuzhou or the Zhen family of Wuji in Zhongshan, but exceptional talents nonetheless. Zhang Fang managed the Huoyun Trading Company single-handedly, but even he was sometimes stretched thin. Employing these two as deputies would be an excellent arrangement.

Upon hearing this, worry gave way to elation. In such turbulent times, wealth alone offered no security—only a powerful patron could ensure survival, and Liu Yao was precisely such a man.

“Su Shuang (Zhang Shiping) offers himself in service, my lord!” they declared without hesitation.

“Good. Rise. Take my token to the Huoyun Trading Company in Youzhou and seek out Zhang Fang—he will assign your duties. And bring your families to Jixian as well,” Liu Yao added, for he would not yet fully trust them. Some precautions were necessary.

“Yes, my lord.” The two men showed no resistance. As long as they remained loyal, their families would be well protected.

“You may go,” Liu Yao said with a wave.

“Yes, my lord.” They withdrew at once.

Having resolved the issue of raw materials, Liu Yao now faced only one more pressing challenge: finding a truly skilled blacksmith. Only with a master’s craftsmanship could he forge weapons worthy of legend.