Chapter 36: The Cannon Foundry

Xu Ke carefully examined the structure of the ships and took some photographs. The clues at the shipyard had greatly piqued his interest. Besides gathering intelligence on hostile forces, the intelligence bureau was also responsible for promptly discovering, understanding, and assessing potential threats, including emerging hostile forces and any technological, humanistic, or scientific advancements by non-Senate powers.

The inspection of the shipyard proved that the natives of this timeline were already aware of the technological gap and were trying to improve their own technology within their means.

Xu Ke was concerned by this phenomenon. No matter how small and feeble such attempts were, the enterprising spirit they contained was undeniable. The existence of the Senate had greatly stimulated the natives’ desire for technological progress and had indirectly broadened their horizons.

While the Senate, as colonists in this timeline, was crushing the natives with their technological, institutional, and cultural superiority, they were also constantly spreading new technologies and ideas.

Xu Ke had mixed feelings. The naturalized citizen staff member accompanying him, seeing his grave expression, so different from the cheerful smiles of the other “chiefs,” became increasingly cautious, though he didn’t know why.

“Let’s go to the cannon foundry.”

The cannon foundry was not far from the shipyard, only about two li away. Xu Ke did not ride a horse but walked there directly. Several members of the Planning Commission’s special search team and some marines were already waiting for him at the foundry gate.

The foundry was quite rudimentary, just a large, compacted earthen field with a few brick-and-tile buildings. Due to the needs of cannon casting, several reservoirs had also been built. Xu Ke noted that several iron-smelting furnaces had already been constructed here, and large quantities of charcoal and iron ore were stockpiled.

By the standards of the late Ming, the equipment at the foundry was advanced. Even with Xu Ke’s hastily acquired 17th-century firearms knowledge, it seemed to have reached the level of contemporary Europe. Not only did they have various measuring tools and calipers, but also a long-bar boring machine powered by oxen or men for finishing the cannon bores.

However, there were no signs of production in the foundry. The smelting furnaces had not yet been fired.

According to a few surrendered prisoners, this foundry had been completed less than a month ago. Although all the equipment and tools were ready and the materials were stocked, Zheng Zhilong had not yet ordered production to begin, the reason being that he was waiting for “foreign cannons.”

“Foreign cannons?” Xu Ke thought. He had seen plenty of genuine foreign cannons on this trip. At Huli Mountain alone, he had seen several Portuguese Hongyi cannons, and on the walls of Zhongzuosuo, there were even the Senate’s own “Kun cannons.” The Zheng clan was certainly not so desperate as to lack a model cannon. Even the hired cannon founders thought it was strange: a great deal of silver had been spent and the materials were ready, yet casting had not begun.

He continued to inspect the foundry and discovered a strange building. It was shaped like a square blockhouse, with a foundation of granite and blue bricks above. It was all bonded with a mortar of glutinous rice juice and “three-in-one” earth, and stood about ten meters high. The building was empty inside and divided into three floors. The top was not sealed but had a frame of thick timber covered with reed mats for protection from the wind and rain.

It was clear that this building was not yet finished, but for the moment, Xu Ke couldn’t figure out its purpose. Judging by its sturdy construction, it seemed to be a bunker.

He walked around the building and found a large pile of wood covered with reed mats nearby. The wood had all been processed into long and short logs with mortise and tenon joints already cut. One of the logs was about ten meters long.

Besides this wood, there were also some thinner long and short wooden poles and a large quantity of cut bamboo strips.

For the moment, Xu Ke couldn’t guess what was going on here. He could only record it with his camera and have the Planning Commission staff carefully catalog and register these materials.

There was also a gunpowder factory attached. The warehouse stored large quantities of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal that had been transported here. However, he did not find the special bluestone mills used for grinding gunpowder. Xu Ke found this strange, as it was an essential item for making gunpowder. The quality of the stone had strict requirements; not just any stone would do.

Upon questioning a prisoner, he was told that the stone mills had been custom-ordered, but because of their large size and weight, they had not yet been delivered.

Xu Ke didn’t think much of it. He walked through the entire foundry and found that it not only had equipment for making cannons but also apparently had plans to manufacture muskets. Moreover, there were crucibles.

Although Xu Ke had never worked in a factory, he had read enough popular science articles on industrial technology to know that the only reason crucibles would be here was that someone in this Zheng family arsenal was attempting to make steel.

While large-scale steel production was still a monopoly of Lingao, small-scale production of “high-quality” steel by the standards of the time existed in many places in this timeline.

The question was, what did the Zheng clan want with crucible steel? Even if Xu Ke was not a weapons expert, he knew that it was impossible to cast cannons with this small amount of steel. Not to mention, he had heard from the industrial Transmigrators that casting steel was extremely difficult, not something a small workshop could do even in the 21st century.

It seemed there were quite a few unsolved mysteries here. Xu Ke felt more and more that this cannon foundry held many unknown secrets.

“Chief…” The staff member from the Planning Commission’s special search team had been waiting for him to finish his inspection before starting their inventory. Seeing that he had returned to the foundry gate, he quickly came up to ask for instructions.

“Everything here must be carefully recorded, drawn, and photographed before it is moved—including its specific location in the foundry.”

“The work will be handled by the people I brought. You will only begin after they have finished each item. Understand?”

“Understood, Chief.”

“Give them a copy of the inventory and numbers you compile. I have a use for it.” After saying this, Xu Ke hurriedly returned to the docks, took a small boat back to Xiamen Island, where more work awaited him.

Crack. A Xuande red vase, miraculously preserved in the rubble, was crushed to pieces under Xue Ziliang’s combat boot.

Xue Ziliang stood in a courtyard of the Zheng mansion, unhurriedly lighting a limited edition “First Light” Corona cigar. He carried a short-barreled FAL assault rifle, his sleeves rolled up to his thick biceps, and wore a boonie hat. The sun, reflecting off his fake Ray-Ban sunglasses, made him look like the “quintessential American GI” from old movies.

Only four hours had passed since he had fired his first shot, but in those four hours, Anping had changed hands. The speed of it had exceeded the estimates of Xue Ziliang and all the staff in Lingao.

The bombardment had caused immense chaos in Anping. As a result, it was a long time after the cannon fire stopped that a force of a hundred or so men was sent from the city to scout the artillery position. They retreated after losing a dozen men to continuous, accurate rifle fire, and then the navy’s special service boat squadron arrived at Anping. In a battle with little suspense, they wiped out all the Zheng army ships anchored in the river.

Before the marines could even begin their assault on the city, the city itself had descended into chaos, with fires breaking out everywhere. The special reconnaissance teams hidden in various locations began to report that all the city gates were open and people were fleeing from all directions. The number of fleeing people was so large and the flood so overwhelming that the sniper teams couldn’t possibly intercept them all. They had to resort to firing on anyone who was richly dressed, on horseback, or in a sedan chair. They killed quite a few, but many more escaped.

Now, on the roads leading out of Anping’s gates, there were abandoned chests, broken sedan chairs, dead horses, and scattered bodies. Valuables of all kinds were strewn across the ground.

The marines quickly took control of the four gates of Anping and began to extinguish the fires and restore order. Xue Ziliang led the special reconnaissance team into Anping—his primary objective was to secure Zheng Zhilong’s mansion.

He took a puff of his cigar to ward off the pungent smell of blood. The courtyard had been completely overturned by the shelling, and it was littered with rubble and shrapnel. The courtyard and the covered walkways were filled with mangled bodies. A few were still alive, groaning in agony. A dozen or so male and female servants, who had apparently been caught by shrapnel shells as they crowded at the courtyard gate to escape, lay in a heap, their bodies torn to pieces, blocking the doorway.

This was the main thoroughfare leading to the Dunren Pavilion, where Zheng Zhilong conducted his business. Xue Ziliang ordered the four team members behind him to quickly clear the rooms in the courtyard. He knew he didn’t need to say much; these veterans knew what to do. They were currently panting, warily scanning their surroundings, ready for immediate action.

Xue Ziliang himself carefully moved through the passage. Although the mansion was in ruins, it was still Zheng Zhilong’s residence. If they were to encounter any resistance in Anping, it would be here.

He had just stepped into the courtyard when a man with a Japanese sword rushed out from the left, screaming and charging at him. It might have been a terrified servant trying to fight his way out, but Xue Ziliang had no time to think. He dodged, and his automatic rifle fired a three-round burst. The man staggered and fell, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Xue ZIliang kicked the body aside and cautiously moved forward. There was no longer any organized resistance, but desperate individuals could appear at any moment. He and two other team members covered each other as they entered the courtyard of the Dunren Pavilion.

There were even more bodies here. Many stewards, foremen, and attendants had been gathered here for a meeting. The shelling had claimed many of their lives, and the ground was a mess of blood and gore.

He subconsciously heard a faint footstep in the main hall. He immediately raised his rifle, ready to fire, and slowly approached the main building. He kicked open the door.

There was no one in the main hall, but he knew someone was hiding behind the curtain.

“Come out, we won’t kill you!” a naturalized soldier of southern Fujian origin who was with him shouted.