Chapter 4: One cannot sit idly by

Zhao Cheng's decision to manufacture a handgun was not a sudden whim, but rather a calculated response to potential adverse situations he might face. He did not wish to place his safety in the hands of those who were completely unfamiliar with him. While the royal palace was not lacking in swords and blades, the issue was that he could not wield them effectively. The best weapon for him was a compact handgun, yet such a device would not appear for another seven or eight hundred years, and even with wealth, there was nowhere to procure one. After much contemplation, he thought of the primitive black powder revolver, a firearm with a simple structure that could be relatively easy to manufacture under the current conditions. Thus, he spent nearly two months gathering the necessary materials.

Zhao Cheng placed all the items that Jianxi had brought over these days on the desk, totaling around thirty to forty parts of various sizes. As he pieced these scattered items together, he couldn't help but lament how he had underestimated the ancients. Each of these meticulously crafted parts would be impossible to produce in modern times without the skill of an 'eighth-level worker.' It seems that although Jianxi is greedy for wealth, the items he has procured are indeed quite impressive.

He checked the gun again, and as he expected, there were indeed scratches in the chamber. It seemed that this gun was akin to the artisanal firearms of his previous life, where the aesthetic aspect outweighed practicality. It could not withstand frequent use and was only suitable for critical moments, yet it had already fulfilled its purpose for self-defense.

After the meal, Zhao Cheng reluctantly left the dining table and followed Jianxi to the large study in the front hall. The teacher who was to give the lesson was already waiting there. The teacher first had him recite the "Hundred Family Surnames" that they had studied yesterday, then guided him to read a new passage. After repeating it three times, he was left to study on his own while the teacher focused on his own book, no longer paying attention to him.

Shh... Zhao Cheng let out a long sigh, restraining his aura. He quickly assembled another gun using the remaining parts. His concerns were somewhat unnecessary; to prevent any deviations, he had Jianxi make two sets of each part for replacement. This cannot be blamed on his caution; in his previous life, being able to return unscathed from every mission was closely tied to his careful and prudent nature.

"Jianxi, have you gathered everything I asked for?" Zhao Cheng asked the 'book boy' who was dozing off beside him

Zhao Cheng merely made slight modifications to several parts using a file, then assembled them together, hammering in the connecting rivets. A thing that ancient people would certainly not recognize, yet which even a three-year-old child in modern times would know, appeared on the desk—a short-barreled revolver. The brass body of the gun gleamed brilliantly, and the handle made of yellow pear wood felt very good in hand. Zhao Cheng let out a long breath, weighed the gun in his hand; it was heavy and somewhat burdensome, but with a gun in hand, his demeanor transformed entirely, resembling a killing god ready to strike down anyone at any moment.

He moved a low stool, climbed up to take a box of books from the bookshelf, placed it on the table, opened it, took out the top book, carefully opened a small box inside, and retrieved the items contained within. In his previous life, these were things readily available, yet they had caused him considerable effort. Zhao Cheng first removed the magazine, used his finger to block the ignition hole, and filled the chamber with gunpowder using a small silver spoon, placing half in each. The ingredients for the gunpowder were obtained by Zhao Cheng from the medicinal herb store in the mansion. He did not expect that saltpeter and sulfur were considered medicinal materials at this time; how could a former special forces soldier, who could make explosives from laundry detergent, be stumped by such a formula.

Bang! Zhao Cheng stepped back about ten paces and fired two shots. The bullets missed the teacup but shattered a fine inkstone nearby, sending sparks flying and stone chips scattering. "Damn it, the recoil is still a bit too much!" Zhao Cheng muttered under his breath, taking a step forward and aiming again. The teacup shattered with a sound, and with the next two shots, he discovered the trick to this old gun. The water basin and pen holder on the desk became 'ghosts under the gun.' For the final shot, he aimed at the pillar in the corner of the room and fired. By this time, the gun was hot to the touch, and his wrist was aching from the recoil. "Damn it, the recoil is still a bit too much!" Zhao Cheng muttered under his breath, taking a step forward and aiming again. The teacup shattered with a sound, and with the next two shots, he discovered the trick to this old gun. The water basin and pen holder on the desk became 'ghosts under the gun.' For the final shot, he aimed at the pillar in the corner of the room and fired. By this time, the gun was hot to the touch, and his wrist was aching from the recoil.

Put down the gun, Zhao Cheng checked the pillar. The bullet had deviated several inches from the floral carving he was aiming at, but it had penetrated more than an inch deep. He made a preliminary assessment of the gun's performance, determining that its effective range could exceed 20 meters, but accuracy decreased significantly; at that distance, one could only rely on luck. Within 10 meters, he would definitely not miss if he aimed at a person, and protective gear like leather armor would absolutely not stop the bullets fired.

After eating, send it to the study for me. How much did it cost? Go ask the chief steward for it. I shouldn't have to teach you how to say that! Zhao Cheng waved his hand, stopping his rambling. Seeing the joyful expression on his face reminded him of the logistics director he had once sent to prison; this kid was treating him like a fool. However, there were no close confidants around him at the moment. He had benefited from the situation and did not dare to speak recklessly. This suited Zhao Cheng's intentions, so he continued to play the 'fool'.

"Rest assured, Second Master!" Seeing Xi's joy, he replied with a charming smile, "This time, I have another ten guan in hand. When I was assigned from the palace to serve the Second Prince, I was just a lowly servant sweeping and watering. People in the palace said that His Highness was a harbinger of misfortune, and anyone associated with him would be doomed. At first, I was quite cautious, but it didn't take long for me to realize that the prince was not a disaster, but rather a blessing, at least my purse is much heavier than it was in the palace.

Zhao Cheng pulled the trigger, and the hammer struck the firing cap accurately. He pulled the hammer back again, and the cylinder rotated, producing a delightful soft click as it entered the firing state. He squinted one eye to check whether the barrel and the chamber were aligned, as this was a critical area that could not be overlooked. He did not hold high expectations for this gun; the copper body made him consider the level of craftsmanship in ancient times, which led to numerous defects in the weapon. The softness of copper meant that the components could not withstand the wear caused by frequent firings. After continuous discharges, the barrel and chamber would develop gaps due to thermal expansion, resulting in poor sealing and gas leakage. This would lead to a decrease in power and affect accuracy. The gun's mainspring, given the current level of craftsmanship, was certainly inadequate, forcing him to use substitutes. Bullets were a luxury, and the loading method could only follow the earliest technique used when revolvers were first invented.

With a muffled bang, a choking cloud of smoke filled the room. Zhao Cheng glanced at the gun still resting on the chair, then pressed down the hammer again, pulling the trigger repeatedly. After several more muffled sounds, the room was already filled with smoke. Once the shooting was finished, the gun remained intact without a burst chamber, but the books laid out in front had been shattered by the lead bullets.

Zhao Cheng could recite these things back in kindergarten, yet he never expected to have to learn them again now; it is truly exceedingly tedious. However, in this time of crisis, he can only endure. If he were to 'stick his head out,' he would only hasten his own demise; feigning ignorance is the way to go. Zhao Cheng shouted out loud twice, his voice growing softer until it gradually faded away. In his previous life, one-on-one teaching was undoubtedly the dream of many parents, but Zhao Cheng found it utterly bland. From kindergarten to military school, he had always experienced collective learning with forty to fifty classmates. Now, facing this old man who is over fifty every day, it is already quite good that he has not fallen asleep.

Second Master, I've gathered everything you wanted, and it took quite an effort. Those people have never seen these items before; if it weren't for the high pay, they wouldn't be willing to do it at all! Upon hearing this, Jianxi became spirited and approached, saying that these items seemed to have no use to him, but he indeed spent a considerable amount of money. Even a skilled old craftsman would need about ten days to make these things properly. However, Second Master is not very sharp; as long as he gets them, he is happy and never asks how much is spent. He can pocket a bit of profit, so he has always been very attentive and proactive. These items seemed to have no use to him, but he indeed spent a considerable amount of money. Even a skilled old craftsman would need about ten days to make these things properly. However, Second Master is not very sharp; as long as he gets them, he is happy and never asks how much is spent. He can pocket a bit of profit, so he has always been very attentive and proactive.

The old gentleman watched the master and servant below chattering away, sighed softly, "A decayed wood cannot be carved!" He turned his face away to look at his book, preferring not to see and thus not to be troubled. After enduring until noon, both the teacher and students left the study in a flurry, as everyone found it difficult to bear the sight of one another

With red phosphorus, he added realgar, charcoal, and rice soup to create a relatively stable firing device. After loading the primer into the firing slot at the rear of the chamber and reattaching the chamber to the gun, the work was considered complete. Zhao Cheng carefully secured the gun to a chair and fixed a half-inch thick book about four to five meters in front. He tied a thin string to the trigger and crouched behind the table to begin the test firing, taking every precaution, as he was uncertain whether the amount of gunpowder was appropriate or the quality of the ancient metal.

... ...

Zhao Cheng once again washed his hands, sat down at the dining table, and looked at the items on the table. Various silver platters were piled with fragrant round cakes, real oranges, pomegranates, and oranges, along with some fried rings, oil cakes, and date pastries. Although they looked quite appealing, he was not allowed to eat them; these were merely for display. The only food he could eat was a small bowl of mutton porridge and a bowl of mutton noodle soup. Only after Jinxi had tasted them would it be his turn to eat, and even then, he could not finish everything. This was the rule of the household, to prevent children from overeating and getting 'stuffed.' Most of his days after his transmigration were spent in this state of half hunger and half fullness, which is quite pitiful to say. Yet, it is a luxury for a prince to have a full meal!

The elderly gentleman sitting in the front is preparing to participate in this year's *He* *Tu* *Shu* autumn examination. Thirty years ago, he had already passed the provincial examination and had hoped that by passing the imperial examination, he could enjoy a life of 'eating mutton.' However, he did not expect to fail repeatedly over the years, and now he cannot even afford 'eating porridge.' He had no choice but to find a teaching position. The family offers a decent salary of eight guan per month, along with meals, and he only teaches one student. Moreover, the student is in poor health, so he only teaches half a day, making the money feel like easy gain. He originally intended to teach this student well, but unfortunately, the poor child is too lazy and dull, unwilling to attend even half a day's class. He has not yet finished the book "Hundred Family Surnames," and his spirits have dampened. Every day, both the student and the teacher come here just to go through the motions, which can be seen as a mutual arrangement.

Haha, I succeeded! Zhao Cheng exclaimed with a hearty laugh, finally taking the first step in the long march of ten thousand miles. After reloading, he placed a teacup for drinking water on the desk; this item would be worth at least several hundred thousand in modern times, but at this moment, it had become his target

In the early morning, Zhao Cheng followed his usual routine, spending more than half an hour walking in the garden, and by then he was already sweating. Upon returning to his residence, he washed his hands and face, first paying his respects and bowing to the north, offering greetings to his father, the Emperor, and his mother, the Imperial Concubine, who were over a hundred miles away. Only after completing this ritual did he begin to have breakfast

After loading the gunpowder, he added some crushed wheat flour and then placed a lead bullet on top. The lead bullet was made by melting down a lead kettle from the kitchen. Next, he sealed the bullet chamber with wax and filled all six chambers in succession, finally installing the primer in the ignition hole. The primer he used was the commonly found firing paper, which could be bought for ten cents a large sheet in his childhood. Today, however, he was troubled by this issue; without a primer, he could only create a firearm ignited by a slow match, which would significantly compromise both its concealability and practicality. It is worth mentioning that he had to thank Qingyun for that fortunate incident; in an explosion, Zhao Cheng obtained the item he had long desired—red phosphorus.