"Young Master, are you selling this cement?"
"We won't sell for now. We don't even have enough for ourselves. If we sell to others, it will delay our own construction." Qin Mo rejected Uncle Lin without thinking. After all, the output of these cement kilns is not large. This Dayuan is his old base. If he doesn't build it up, he will be letting down his deceased cheap father. It would be a waste of the large foundation that he left him.
"But...but...we haven't gathered enough weapons for our 10,000 troops yet..." This time it wasn't Uncle Lin who spoke, but Wu Shengze, another fierce general from Qin Mo's father's retinue.
"Uncle Wu, don't worry. Cement is a new thing, and outsiders may not accept it in a short time. We are pressed for time and can't afford to delay, so I plan to make a fuss about sea salt." Qin Mo explained to them in a friendly manner. This was all the wealth left to him by his father. The business was passed down from father to son, and each generation was his subordinate. They couldn't be treated like ordinary soldiers.
The group of ruthless killers were completely dumbfounded. This cement didn't seem to have anything to do with sea salt at all. Could this black powder possibly turn into white salt?
Secondly, Qin Mo led his men to establish a salt field in a bay they had long identified. Previously, the Dayuan people produced sea salt by boiling it in a large pot until the seawater evaporated, leaving only the salt. This type of salt had large grains, a strong astringent taste, and, more importantly, the large pot would corrode and deteriorate quickly, making it quite expensive.
Salt production through salt pans was the quickest and least technically demanding way for Qin Mo to get rich. Salt production is simply a process of salt in seawater continuously settling and water continuously evaporating. As long as cement is available, it's easy to do.
The salt field consists of several salt ponds, rising in a stepped fashion from the sea to the inland, much like terraced fields. Each step is three to five inches higher than the previous one, and valves are installed between the upper and lower ponds to allow for the exchange of brine. A deep ditch connects the entire salt field to the sea, and water is added during high tide for salt production.
Watching the salt field take shape under Qin Mo's command, Uncle Lin and the others marveled at how useful the cement was. The surface of the salt field was flat and smooth, several times better than the best stone surface.
But they didn't understand what the Crown Prince was doing. Could he possibly make salt like this? Was he putting an iron pot on a cement floor to heat it? Since they couldn't understand it, they simply stopped thinking about it. Since the Crown Prince could make something as good as cement, there must be a reason for whatever he did.
The bay Qin Mo found was windy, with a gentle, wide beach and peninsulas extending into the sea on both sides. With a little development, it could become a strong, well-preserved harbor. Qin Mo's original intention was to seal it off, so that the salt could be dried and then directly loaded onto ships for transport.
Qin Mo then summoned Uncle Lin and several trusted retainers to the salt field, wanting them to witness the salt-making process firsthand. He also intended to show off his skills, proving that as long as they followed him, they would have plenty of food and drink.
The uppermost salt pond is used to settle the sediment in the seawater. After a day of evaporation, the sediment is transferred to the next salt pond, and so on, in a continuous cycle of salt production. As the brine gradually evaporates, by the time it reaches the lowest salt pond, the salt content in the brine reaches saturation. After being exposed to the sun for several days, the salt begins to crystallize.
Qin Mo led them to the lowest salt pond and personally opened a water valve on one side, releasing the non-crystallizing "bitter brine" from the brine into the sea. What remained was granular salt, still with some bitter brine on top, but it quickly evaporated with the sea breeze.
Qin Mo waved his hand, and the salt workers who had been waiting on the side couldn't wait any longer. They picked up their tools and started pushing the salt in the salt pond. Large swathes of sea salt were pushed up and piled up into a mountain.
Uncle Lin and the others were dumbfounded. Salt was already being produced? In the past, how much firewood and manpower were needed to boil sea salt, and how much salt could be produced in a single batch? How much salt was needed to exchange for an iron pot? But now, a mountain of salt was right in front of them. If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, who would have agreed to produce tens of thousands of kilograms of salt? They would have spat in his face.
After sweeping away the remaining loose salt grains in the salt pond, the salt worker opened the valve on the top layer before Li Mo could speak, and the brine instantly filled the bottom salt pond again. Before long, it would be another pond full of sea salt.
Looking at the mountains of sea salt and then at the endless wasteland next to the salt fields, everyone's breathing became heavy.
"Young Master, who taught you this salt-making method...?" Uncle Lin was also a veteran of the battlefield, but now he couldn't even speak coherently.
Qin Mo remained silent, simply pointing to his chest with a calm and collected expression. Others, seeing his demeanor, would naturally assume he was troubled, but Uncle Lin knew Qin Mo was referring to the phoenix mark on his chest.
"Uncle Lin, find reliable people to build a dock, and then prevent outsiders from coming here. Although there are no secrets that stay hidden forever, we can make money if we can hide for a while."
"Young Master, rest assured, if even a whisper of this gets out, we will take care of it ourselves without you having to say a word."
"Anyone who dares to covet the young master's estate, I'll twist their head off."
The group of ruthless men patted their chests and swung their shoulders, practically ready to swear oaths and sign military pledges. If their master became wealthy, they, as his retainers, would naturally enjoy a good life as well. Anyone who dared to threaten their master's fortune would be cutting off their descendants' path to wealth; otherwise, they would be fighting to the death.
Seeing a group of gray-haired old men transformed into violent elements, Qin Mo was moved, but felt even more helpless. They had all come to Dayuan with their father, Qin Lan, when they were already old, mostly with their families. The younger ones had mostly stayed in Daxia, continuing to fight on the battlefield, seeking a future.
They've been in Dayuan for sixteen years, and their cheap father hasn't brought them any wealth. They used to have a peaceful living environment to comfort them, but that's about to be shattered by the upcoming expedition.
Qin Mo looked at the roster. There were fewer than three thousand soldiers and retainers under the age of forty with combat experience, and even adding those under fifty, there were only eight or nine thousand. In this world, this age group was definitely considered old-timers. Qin Mo felt uneasy. These were all grandfathers, and yet he was dragging them to the battlefield. Wasn't he committing a sin?
"Uncle Lin, when I go to the capital this time, don't bring so many people. Just three thousand will suffice. The rest can stay in Dayuan to guard the city. Only if our foundation is intact will we be safe. Relying on ourselves is better than relying on anyone else." Qin Mo came up with a compromise. Of course, without reliable military force, they couldn't protect the enormous wealth that was about to arrive.
"But what about the military orders from the Central Military Command? Not all the officials there are honest and upright men; many are just heartless scholars."
"We'll recruit the rest along the way. As long as we sell the salt quickly, we'll have enough money to recruit more refugees." Since the new emperor ascended the throne three years ago, the empire has changed its previous defensive strategy, launching offensives every year and wreaking havoc on the orcish territory. However, due to these annual campaigns, the land has become barren, taxes have soared, and refugees have gradually increased.
“Young Master, if we are to recruit refugees to make up the numbers, I have an idea. We can recruit Japanese.”
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