The second forge's foundation was laid on a morning when frost still clung to the grass.
I stood bundled in thick robes, watching workers dig the foundation trench under Master Han's supervision. The old smith had initially resisted the entire concept—another forge meant divided attention, diluted quality, potential for inferior work bearing the Iron Lotus name. But after two days of careful discussion, framing it as expanding his legacy rather than replacing his authority, he'd not only accepted the plan but embraced it with unexpected enthusiasm.
"The foundation must be deeper here," Master Han instructed, pointing to the northern corner. "Cold from the mountain descends this direction. Shallow foundation means uneven settling, which means crooked walls, which means poor forge performance."
The workers adjusted their digging. Master Han's practical knowledge complemented my theoretical understanding—I knew principles of heat distribution and structural engineering, but he knew how the Northern Wasteland's specific conditions affected construction.
"Your color is better today," Liu Ruyan observed from beside me. She'd insisted on accompanying my site visits, claiming someone needed to ensure I returned for meals and rest.
"Two weeks since the planning meeting. I'm getting stronger."
"Slowly. Which is appropriate pace for sustainable recovery." She pulled my robes tighter against a gust of wind. "Though standing in cold wind watching others dig holes seems counterproductive to health maintenance."
"I need to see the work. Understand the process. Make sure theory translates to practice."
"少主 could accomplish that from inside where it's warm."
"Where I couldn't answer immediate questions or make on-site adjustments." I watched Feng direct two younger workers on proper trench depth. The apprentice-turned-senior-smith was settling into his new role with surprising confidence. "How's Feng handling the increased responsibility?"
"Well, according to kitchen gossip. The other apprentices respect him. Master Han trusts his judgment. And he's been staying late each night studying the forge plans, making notes on potential improvements." She paused. "He also asked permission to court the baker's daughter. Apparently his promotion made him confident enough to speak with her father."
I smiled at that. Career advancement enabling personal happiness—exactly the kind of positive cycle we needed. "I hope the baker approves."
"He did. The wedding is planned for spring, after the second forge is operational. Feng wants to prove he can manage increased production before taking on household responsibilities."
Practical and responsible. Feng would do well.
Master Han approached, leaving the workers to continue digging. "Young Master Hanxing, a word?"
We moved slightly away from the construction site, Liu Ruyan following at discrete distance.
"The forge design you've proposed," Master Han began carefully. "It's sound. Better than sound—it incorporates improvements this old smith never considered. But there's an element we haven't discussed."
"Which is?"
"Who oversees this forge long-term? Feng is capable, yes, but he's still learning. The second forge can't simply replicate the first—it needs specialization, as you suggested. Different processes, different focus. That requires someone who understands both smithing and this broader vision you're building."
I'd been avoiding this question because the answer was problematic. "You're saying we need another master smith, but we can't afford to hire one from outside."
"Exactly. Outside masters would demand significant silver, and they'd bring their own methods that might conflict with our improvements. We need someone who understands our approach, can be trained quickly, and has leadership capability." He looked at me meaningfully. "This one has been thinking... your eldest brother, Liefeng."
The suggestion caught me off guard. "Liefeng? He's a warrior, not a smith."
"He's a warrior without sufficient warriors to command. This clan's military strength is... limited. Your brother spends his days training men who will never be elite fighters, preparing for threats we cannot realistically defend against through force alone. He's frustrated, underutilized, and increasingly aware that his skills don't match our actual needs."
It was an astute observation. Liefeng had been notably quiet during recent planning sessions, his martial expertise less relevant to our economic and strategic focus.
"You think he could learn smithing?"
"He has the physical strength, the discipline, and the attention to detail. What he lacks is purpose that aligns with his abilities. Give him charge of the second forge—train him intensively for six weeks, position it as expanding clan capabilities through personal sacrifice—and you'll give him meaningful contribution while solving our oversight problem."
The logic was compelling but the execution would be delicate. Asking a proud warrior to become a blacksmith could be interpreted as demotion or dismissal of his value.
"Let me discuss it with him," I said. "Frame it carefully. He needs to see it as opportunity rather than relegation."
Master Han nodded. "This one will support whatever you decide. But consider it quickly—training takes time, and we'll need someone ready when the forge opens."
After he returned to supervising the workers, I stood thinking through approaches. Liefeng was straightforward in his thinking—he valued strength, loyalty, and clear contribution to clan welfare. If I could frame smithing as martial skill applied differently...
"You're scheming," Liu Ruyan observed. "This one recognizes that expression."
"Planning, not scheming. There's a difference."
"Very thin difference."
"I need to convince Liefeng to learn smithing without making it seem like I'm pushing him aside because his warrior skills aren't valuable."
"Tell him the truth—that the clan needs his strength applied to production rather than defense. That protecting the family through superior weapons is as honorable as protecting them through superior fighting." She paused thoughtfully. "And remind him that a smith who can actually fight is valuable. He could design weapons based on combat experience, understand what warriors truly need."
That was brilliant. Not asking him to stop being a warrior but to apply warrior knowledge to weapon creation.
"You're better at this than I am."
"This one understands people. 少主 understands systems. Together we manage adequately."
We returned to the compound as the sun reached its zenith. The foundation trench was nearly complete, and Master Han had declared satisfactory progress. Tomorrow they'd begin laying the stone foundation, then brick walls, then the critical forge hearth construction.
In the main hall, I found Liefeng reviewing training reports with visible frustration. Papers spread across the table detailed each warrior's combat capabilities, progress in various techniques, and readiness assessments. Every page essentially said the same thing—competent but not elite.
"Brother," I said, approaching carefully. "Do you have time to discuss something?"
He looked up, expression guarded. "About?"
"About where your talents can be most valuable to the clan."
His jaw tightened slightly. "If this is about suggesting I take up farming or merchant work—"
"It's about smithing. Specifically, leading the second forge."
He stared at me. "You want me to become a blacksmith?"
"I want you to apply your combat expertise to weapon creation. Master Han is skilled, but he's never fought with the weapons he makes. You have. You know what works in actual combat, what breaks, what balance feels right, what modifications would improve battlefield performance. That knowledge is invaluable."
"I'm a warrior, Hanxing. Not a craftsman."
"You're both. Or you could be." I sat across from him, ignoring the reports. "Brother, be honest—are you satisfied with your current role? Training men who will never be elite? Preparing defenses we both know can't withstand serious attack? You're a third-rate martial artist—that's formidable, but not enough to transform our military situation alone."
His expression darkened, but he didn't interrupt.
"The clan needs your strength," I continued. "But applied to production, not just protection. Imagine weapons designed by someone who actually understands combat. Balanced for real fighting, not just looking impressive. Tested by someone who can identify flaws through practical use. You could revolutionize our weapon quality in ways pure craftsmen never could."
"And abandon my warriors?"
"Integrate them. Have warriors test every weapon. Use combat training to inform design. Create feedback loop between usage and creation. You wouldn't stop being a warrior—you'd become a warrior who makes warriors more effective."
He was quiet, processing. I could see the conflict—pride in his martial identity versus recognition that his current role had limited impact.
"How long would training take?"
"Master Han estimates six weeks for basic competency, three months for real proficiency. You'd work closely with him and Feng initially, then take increasing responsibility for the second forge. It's not easy work—smithing is physically demanding in different ways than combat training."
"I'm not afraid of physical demand."
"I know. That's why I think you're suited for this." I leaned forward slightly. "Brother, we're transforming the clan. Everyone is finding new ways to contribute. Wenxuan went from failed scholar to financial strategist. Huiyue expanded from simple trading to complex merchant relationships. Mother joined planning councils. Even I went from dying invalid to... whatever I am now. You can transform too. Become the warrior-smith who makes weapons worth fighting with."
The title resonated—I could see it in his eyes. Not just 'blacksmith' but 'warrior-smith.' Identity preserved while role evolved.
"Let me think about it," he said finally. "This isn't a decision to make lightly."
"Of course. Take the time you need. But Brother—we need your answer within a week. Construction is progressing, and training needs to begin soon."
He nodded curtly, returning to his reports with furrowed brow.
I left him to his thoughts, trusting that he'd reach the right conclusion. Liefeng was practical underneath his warrior's pride. He'd recognize that the clan needed him in this role more than his current one.
Back in my chambers, I found Wenxuan waiting with scrolls and a concerned expression.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The mine improvements are encountering complications."
I settled into my chair, suddenly tired. "What kind of complications?"
"Uncle Qingsong started initial surveying work as planned. But when they attempted to access the lower shafts for drainage assessment, they found the flooding was worse than anyone realized. The tunnels we thought were merely waterlogged are actually collapsed in several places. Repairing them before we can even begin drainage improvements will cost an additional four to six taels. Money we didn't budget for."
Four to six taels we didn't have. Our working capital was already committed to the forge construction. This would require either delaying mine work or finding additional revenue somehow.
"What's Uncle Qingsong's recommendation?"
"He says we can't proceed without the repairs. Attempting to work in unstable tunnels risks lives. But he's frustrated because the added cost wasn't something he could have predicted without actually going down there—the previous managers stopped doing detailed inspections years ago."
I pulled up the Memory Treasure Vault, considering whether I should use a search to identify cost-saving approaches. But this felt like a problem requiring human judgment rather than technical knowledge.
"Tell Uncle Qingsong to proceed with minimum repairs necessary to make the lower shafts safe for assessment. Not full restoration, just enough to evaluate what we're dealing with. That should cost perhaps two taels. Once we have better information, we can make informed decisions about full repairs versus alternative approaches."
Wenxuan made notes. "That's sensible. I'll convey the message. But Hanxing—this is a reminder that our planning, however thorough, can't account for everything. We're operating on thin margins. One more unexpected cost could break our budget entirely."
"Then we'll need to generate more revenue or delay less critical expenses. How are weapon sales trending?"
"Strong. Huiyue thinks we can maintain current profit levels for another month, possibly increase them if word continues spreading. But that's not guaranteed."
"Nothing is guaranteed. We work with probabilities and make best decisions with available information." I stood, needing to move despite my body's fatigue. "Schedule a meeting with Father, Huiyue, and Uncle Qingsong tomorrow. We'll review mine situation with better information and adjust plans accordingly."
After Wenxuan left, I paced the chamber slowly, my mind running through contingencies. This was the reality of operating on limited resources—every problem consumed capacity we didn't have, every unexpected complication threatened the entire strategy.
But we were still better positioned than a month ago. Problems were now about managing growth rather than preventing collapse. That distinction mattered.
Liu Ruyan entered with evening meal and immediately noticed my agitation. "Something troubles 少主?"
"Mine complications. Unexpected costs. The usual challenges of ambitious plans meeting messy reality."
She set down the tray and guided me to sit. "And these challenges are solvable?"
"Probably. But they require flexibility and additional resources we're not sure we have."
"Then this one trusts 少主 will find solutions, as you have with every previous challenge." She began laying out the meal. "For now, eat. Planning is more effective on a full stomach."
Simple, practical advice. Very Liu Ruyan.
As I ate, she settled into her usual chair with needlework. The comfortable silence between us had become familiar, almost domestic in its ease.
"Liu Ruyan," I said between bites, "when you imagined your future before all this started, what did you picture?"
She looked up from her work, surprised by the question. "This one never imagined much beyond daily service. Servants don't typically plan futures—we manage presents."
"But if you could? If circumstances allowed it?"
She was quiet for a moment, her needle pausing mid-stitch. "This one might have hoped for household of my own someday. Modest, perhaps serving a merchant family or minor official. Children, if fortune allowed. Simple life of purpose and stability."
"That sounds lonely."
"Servants are often lonely. We exist beside family life without being part of it."
"You're part of this family's life now. Father seeks your observations. Mother values your assistance. Wenxuan relies on your message coordination. You're not just serving—you're contributing to clan operations directly."
Her expression softened. "Because 少主 has given me opportunity to contribute beyond typical servant role. But that is unusual. Most servants live entire lives being efficient and invisible."
"Then perhaps it's time the Iron Lotus Sect became unusual in more ways than just smithing techniques."
She smiled slightly. "少主 plans to revolutionize servant relationships along with everything else?"
"Why not? If we're disrupting tradition anyway, might as well do it thoroughly."
She returned to her needlework, but I caught the small smile that lingered on her lips.
The Memory Treasure Vault interface flickered.
'MEMORY TREASURE VAULT'
'DAILY SEARCHES REMAINING: 3/3'
'INTEGRATION STATUS: 89% COMPLETE'
'APPROACHING CRITICAL MILESTONE: 90%'
'ESTIMATED TIME: 3-5 DAYS'
'PHYSICAL CONDITION: STABLE'
'STRATEGIC COMPLEXITY MANAGEMENT: GOOD'
'RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT: HEALTHY PROGRESSION'
'CLAN SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 78%'
Eighty-nine percent. The threshold was close. I found myself both anticipating and anxious about reaching ninety percent integration. Would something change dramatically? Would new capabilities unlock that might prove overwhelming or dangerous?
But those worries could wait. Tonight, I had a comfortable room, a warm meal, and the quiet presence of someone who'd chosen to be here despite having every reason to maintain professional distance.
Tomorrow would bring mine complications and training Liefeng and managing unexpected costs. But tonight, for a few peaceful hours, I could simply exist without solving problems.
It was a luxury I was learning to appreciate.
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