The old things I repaired have become fine

Chapter 815 So it was you, the famous soldier in history books
A narrow, slightly curled, rusty iron bar.

Shen Le looked at it for a long time but couldn't figure out what it used to be. Only the note attached to the box revealed its history:
A bayonet, or rather, a fragment of a bayonet. It once belonged to a company commander of the Eighth Route Army, who, after running out of bullets, used this bayonet to pierce the chests of three enemies in succession.

A piece of rotten iron, about the size of a palm, with serrated edges.

According to the records obtained by the Special Affairs Bureau, this piece of iron belonged to a member of the Big Sword Team. The terrible marks on the iron were cracks that broke when the Japanese pirates were cleaved in two.
A... crooked iron rod? An iron tip?
That was the twisted tip of a red-tasseled spear, the weapon of an old militiaman. While covering the evacuation of his fellow villagers, he used this ancestral red-tasseled spear to firmly block the mountain pass—

“He tumbled down the cliff with the enemy in his arms, leaving no trace of his body. The village enshrined the spearhead and held annual sacrifices to him.”

There was another strange thing, a "匚"-shaped object. Shen Le thought of all the weapons he knew, but none of them matched.

It was only later that they learned that the thing was a broken rake tooth, belonging to an ordinary farmer who used this farming tool to smash the head of a Japanese pirate...

One, then another, and yet another. Fighting to the death, disregarding his own safety and the increasing number of wounds on his body, he clung tightly to that rake until his very last breath…

Each piece, large or small, is covered in rust and unrecognizable from its original form, possessing no value whatsoever for museum collection or exhibition.

But their value lies there; the emotions that shine upon them are so intense that they almost blind you.

Shen Le respectfully picked up the piece of scrap iron with both hands and placed it beside it. Each piece of iron was absorbed by the scrap iron, a frenzied process of absorption that accepted everything without exception.
That unwavering will, that resolute determination to sacrifice oneself, that spirit of "I will go even if there are thousands of people against me"—

When the nation is in peril, every one of us is willing to rise up and fight to the death for it, even if we can only kill one enemy or deplete one enemy bullet!
Shen Le's breathing grew heavier and more rapid. He picked up these national memories and prides one by one, feeding them to the scrap metal, silently praying in his heart:

"With the heroic spirit of our predecessors above us, we, the younger generation, are consuming these relics out of necessity, but in order to repair the spiritual objects and seek assistance for China to overcome the crisis."

"I dare not underestimate this, nor dare I squander it. Once this matter is settled, the younger generation will definitely... definitely..."

He couldn't continue. A sacrifice? To pay respects? Many of these elders were atheists; they might not even receive their own sacrifices…

Or, how about going to a cemetery to lay flowers? Or pack up a whole bunch of things, like fighter jet models or photos of the Dongfeng missile, and place them in front of the grave?

Forget it, let's get this done first...

The box was full of all kinds of iron bars, iron sheets, twisted and deformed ironware of unknown origin, and scrap iron lumps, and its volume was expanding at a visible speed.

Not only did it expand, but the dark rust on its surface also faded away at a rapid pace, revealing a shiny new appearance.

Any of Shen Le's teachers who see this footage would be stunned and unsure how to evaluate this "restoration" process:
Whether it's a change in its appearance, an increase in its quality, or even a change in its internal texture, it's all completely unreasonable and doesn't conform to any scientific laws!

The box of ironware had been "eaten" away, consuming far more weight than it had gained. The rotten lump of iron—which was no longer rotten at all—finally quieted down.

After several attempts, Shen Le finally confirmed that the animal was "full" and refused to eat anymore. He quickly closed the lid and prepared to return the remaining food to the Special Affairs Bureau, asking them to send it back to its original location.

Then, he cupped the large iron lump in both hands and shook it vigorously:
"Hey--"

Extremely heavy!

It doesn't look particularly big; it's about the thickness of two hands that can be clasped together, and its length isn't much longer than his forearm. However, lifting it up is incredibly difficult.
It doesn't have a handle!

Unlike dumbbells or kettlebells, there's no easy point to exert force, making it quite difficult to lift...

He walked around the large iron lump clockwise and counterclockwise, racking his brains, but he still couldn't figure out what it was.

This thing doesn't resemble a lock, a weight, or a hammer; it also has a huge hollow hole, as if a rod or something else is threaded through it.

However, Shen Le racked his brains but still couldn't figure out what it was. If it was a hammer, it was too big and too heavy; who could swing such a huge hammer?

Shen Le racked his brains for a long time without success, so he could only begin the basics. He used his mental energy to envelop the large iron lump and struggled to lift it upwards—

Great, I managed to lift it. Sure enough, mental strength is more reliable than hands. It can steadily lift heavy objects without deforming or damaging them at all.

There's no need to thread ropes through it, tie it up, or look for a forklift or similar equipment to move it.

I picked it up, moved it horizontally, and placed it next to an electronic scale. I put it down and weighed it: no wonder it was so heavy! The weight displayed on the scale was a staggering 30 kilograms!

So what exactly is this thing?

Shen Le took pictures of it, scanned it, and placed it under various instruments for observation:
The instrument showed that it was still pig iron, specifically white cast iron, with a carbon content of 3.2%-3.6% and sulfur and phosphorus impurities below 0.1%, making it a pig iron of quite excellent quality.

Having absorbed so many weapons, even rusted ones, they were still just raw iron in the end. Shen Le truly wanted to say:
What a waste of all those materials!
If it weren't for the golden light swirling around the large iron lump, and the intense, almost boiling, spiritual energy emanating from it, it truly wouldn't have been able to secure its place in the earthenware urn.
The material is far inferior to Madam Xu's dagger; it's like night and day. Moreover, cast iron, being of lower quality than forged wrought iron or steel, can't be used to make anything of good quality.

It was generally used to make iron cauldrons, iron tripods, and also things like iron belt hooks. Oh, and there was also the iron weight, which was a standard weight issued throughout the country to unify weights and measures.

It can't be used to make weapons, axles, or even farm implements—shovels and adzes also require strength; at the very least, they should be made from decarburized cast iron steel…

Shen Le was truly stumped by this thing. He took a bunch of photos and videos, created a scanned document, and, just in case the teacher couldn't figure it out, he even made a replica out of foam plastic and took it to ask for help.

Several professors sat in a group, each expressing their own opinions, and after discussing for a long time, they could only give Shen Le one answer:
“Shen Le, we can’t determine the purpose of every artifact we discover…”

Saying that is as good as saying nothing...

Shen Le had no choice but to take his leave and return home to find a solution himself. At this point, he could only resort to the methods of cultivators:

Sitting upright in front of the large iron block, I grasped it with both hands, continuously channeling the heat from my body into it, trying to draw upon its power and communicate with it...

The glitter, like fragments of gold, was stirred up by the heat, dancing, colliding, and reforming before his eyes.

Having been tamed once, the golden light was no longer as unruly as before. Instead, it meticulously wove itself together, dragging Shen Le into a dark tunnel, and then into a bright radiance:

It was a tiny child. A child with exquisitely beautiful features, so delicate that at first glance, one could easily mistake her for a little girl.

If it weren't for the fact that everyone around him called him "Young Master," Shen Le would have mistaken his gender...

Shen Le patiently followed him, observing everything around him. This family seemed to be one of the top clans in the country; Shen Le often heard phrases like "several generations have served as prime ministers."

They should have been living a life of unparalleled prestige and honor, but the children's lives were far from comfortable:
His father seems to be dead?
The child died when he was very young?

There was no one else in the family who could inherit the position of prime minister. The official positions held by the clansmen were not particularly high, and besides, even if they reached the highest rank, it wouldn't be of much use.
During Shen Le's formative years, his ears were filled with one piece of bad news after another—General Qin... attacked... and captured twelve cities...

The five states formed an alliance to attack Qin... all five states were defeated and fled...

Qin...attacked...and captured cities...

The situation was precarious. Defeat, ceding territory, more defeat, more ceding of territory... The six states' attempts to bribe Qin were like adding fuel to the fire; the fire would never be extinguished until the fuel was exhausted.

As the child grew into a teenager, Shen Le experienced the meaning of this sentence for the first time very directly.

Speaking of which, this child seems familiar? Who is he? Han Feizi?
Shen Le racked his brains, thinking desperately. He watched the child diligently studying and visiting scholars from all walks of life, trying to understand the chaotic and hopeless situation.

He watched as the child, despite his poor health, diligently practiced martial arts, even to the point of falling ill several times, all in an effort to earn a chance to contribute to the country.

Watching this child, despite being marginalized by his family, still manage to visit various influential figures, hoping to rise to a position in the imperial court as soon as possible and attempt to save the country...

However, he was too young, and the crisis in the country came too suddenly.

The ruler offered Qin land and a seal in exchange for becoming a vassal state.
The ruler of the state ceded Nanyang to Qin;

Step by step, they groveled and groveled, shrinking their space for survival step by step, only to have their capital trampled underfoot in the end.

The country is destroyed!

The boy stood at the gate of the mansion, watching the people he once knew come and go like headless flies, almost indifferently.

He could have become an official. Given his lineage and the customs of the time, he would have been able to enter officialdom as soon as he came of age and reached adulthood. He could very well have climbed step by step to the position of prime minister.

However, the country was gone, and the royal family and nobles were all taken to Xianyang, where cries of sorrow filled the air...

"But that's my country," Shen Le murmured as he listened.

"Although it is weak, although the king is not wise, although those ministers are... but, that is my country... Qin, Qin..."

He was not taken to Xianyang, perhaps because he was too young and not well-known, and the Qin people's net of traps overlooked him.

The boy, now the pillar of his family, unleashed a power unimaginable to most:

He sold all his possessions, even neglecting to bury his deceased brother according to proper rites, and left his homeland with all his wealth, wandering the land in search of a top assassin to assassinate the King of Qin.

revenge!

revenge!

"what!"

Shen Le suddenly realized. It matched! It finally matched!

"Marquis Liu, Zhang Liang, was originally from the state of Han. His grandfather opened up the land and served as prime minister to Marquis Zhao of Han, King Xuanhui, and King Xiangai. His father, Ping, served as prime minister to King Xi and King Daohui. In the twenty-third year of King Daohui's reign, Ping died. Twenty years after his death, Qin destroyed Han."

Liang was young and had not yet served as an official in Han. After Han was destroyed, Liang had three hundred servants, and his younger brother died without being buried. He used all his family wealth to hire assassins to kill the King of Qin and avenge Han, because his grandfather and father had served as ministers to Han for five generations.

The words in the historical records came alive in Shen Le's eyes. He watched as Zhang Liang traveled east to Huaiyang to study etiquette, partly for academic purposes and partly to find like-minded people who wanted to resist Qin.

He watched as Zhang Liang continued eastward, where he met the mysterious "Canghai Jun" and received a strongman's recommendation from him;
Then, the furnace in the workshop roared, illuminating the strongman's bulging muscles, and molten iron gushed out, falling into the clay mold...

When the clay mold was smashed open, the shape that was revealed was exactly the iron lump that Shen Le had painstakingly repaired!

"The iron hammer weighs 120 jin."

Shen Le instinctively held her breath!
The 120 jin (斤) of the Qin system was approximately equivalent to 30 kilograms in modern terms, as evidenced by numerous unearthed iron weights with inscriptions.

The iron lump in front of you is not a lock, not a weight, not a hammer, not an iron weight... it is a "hammer"!
"Bolang vertebra..."

He murmured:

"So it was you... Zhang Liang's dagger in Qin, Su Wu's staff in Han..."

It was the earth-shattering weapon used to assassinate Qin Shi Huang at Bolangsha—a famous weapon that almost changed history and is still praised by people thousands of years later!

Seeing the Bolang dagger appear, Shen Le, for some reason, felt a sense of relief. To be honest, he had been wondering how Zhang Liang had attempted to assassinate Qin Shi Huang:

That's a massive iron hammer weighing 120 pounds!

Even in the hammer throw, the world record in the modern Olympic Games is only over 80 meters—that uses a 7-kilogram hammer, not 30 kilograms!

Surely they can't actually use a shoulder-fired rocket launcher, can they?
Now, a huge crossbow has been carried up the hillside by strongmen and hidden in the bushes.

The massive iron hammer, fitted with a wooden pole and mounted on a crossbow, was pulled back with great effort by a strongman and aimed at the chariot below the hillside:
That was the most imposing, the most luxurious, and the most heavily guarded vehicle in the convoy!

This is the moment!

The iron hammer detached from the crossbow, transforming into a blurry black shadow that streaked across the sky, heading straight for the carriage!

With a loud bang, wood chips flew everywhere, and copper and iron twisted.

The carriage was smashed to pieces by the blow, chaos erupted, warhorses neighed in terror, and guards cried out "Protect His Majesty!" as they rushed forward.

"Mistakenly hit the secondary vehicle."

Four simple words sealed the fate of this Bolang mace, and also set off a turbulent wave in history...

The most brilliant part for Zhang Liang is yet to come.

(End of this chapter)