Industry began in 1937

Back in the cave, Chen Yuan immediately threw himself into his work.

Two cold, seamless steel pipes rested on the stone, next to which were the small hand tools he had found on the platform—a fine steel file, several drill bits of different sizes, and a caliper, all left over from when he made the basic tool set.

"Flintlock," he said clearly on the communication platform, "manufacture the following components: 1. Barrel breech locking sleeve and matching bolts for rear loading and gas sealing; 2. Standardized flintlock bolt assembly, hammer, flint clip, and charge cover linkage mechanism; 3. Front sight and rear sight; 4. One cleaning rod. The material will be leftover high-quality steel, and energy consumption will be assessed."

The light screen flashed, and after a moment a list was displayed, showing that a total of about 1.5 kg of materials were needed, with an energy consumption of 0.06%.

This amount of energy consumption is manageable compared to the mere fraction of an energy he has left.

He confirmed that he would carry it out.

While waiting for the precision parts to be manufactured, he began to work on the long steel pipe by hand.

Using calipers to carefully measure, about one foot from the muzzle, a small hole was slowly drilled above the barrel using a platform-made superhard alloy drill bit and a simple hand-cranked drill stand, to serve as an ignition hole.

Drilling is extremely demanding in terms of patience and physical strength. The drill bit makes a screeching sound as it rubs against the steel, and sparks occasionally fly out. He must keep it perfectly vertical, otherwise it will affect the ignition.

More than an hour later, a small and neat ignition hole was finally completed.

Next, he had to machine threads at the breech of the barrel to match the upcoming locking sleeve.

If the tools you have aren't suitable, just have the platform produce a set of taps and dies.

This job requires even more skill; the threads must be uniform and matched to ensure air tightness.

He worked slowly, frequently using calipers to measure and compare.

The components manufactured by the platform are complete.

The locking sleeves and bolts are machined with extremely high precision, resulting in a tight fit.

The flintlock mechanism caught his eye: a combination of brass and steel, powerful springs, smooth opening and closing of the flint clamp, and a clever linkage between the flask lid and the hammer. With a single strike, the flint sparks should accurately fall into the flask.

The front and rear sights are small but clear.

He began assembling.

Screw the locking nut onto the breech of the barrel and tighten it with a special wrench.

Secure the bolt assembly to the appropriate position at the rear of the barrel with screws, and adjust the hammer angle to ensure that the flint is aligned with the powder container above the ignition port.

Install the front and rear sights.

Finally, they found a straight and sturdy piece of hardwood, roughly shaped it into the shape of a gunstock with a knife and axe, and then firmly fixed the assembled metal parts to the wooden stock with iron hoops and glue.

A simple stock with a trigger guard and grip curve gradually took shape.

He repeatedly checked each component, pulled the hammer, felt the force of the spring, and simulated firing.

Then, the most crucial adjustment began: a small amount of black powder obtained from the village was poured into a small pot connected to the ignition hole, and the lid was put on.

Insert lead pellets, slightly smaller than the caliber and wrapped in soft cloth, into the breech sleeve of the gun barrel, and gently press them down with a cleaning rod.

Finally, pour the main propellant into the muzzle, then insert a main lead bullet and compact it.

He was very careful throughout the process, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Manufacturing weapons is different from manufacturing farm tools; if any step goes wrong, the barrel may explode.

He didn't want to die before he even got started.

But even flintlock muskets were extremely rare items for men, especially Chinese men.

He doesn't just have weapons for this.

It's even more of a big toy.

Everything is ready.

He walked to a rock wall outside the cave, facing away from the ravine, rested the butt of his rifle against his shoulder, and aimed at a dead tree about thirty paces away, using his extremely vague memory of shooting knowledge.

Take a deep breath and pull the trigger.

"Crack—Boom!"

The hammer fell swiftly, and the flint sparked a dazzling spark against the steel plate of the flaming pot lid, instantly igniting the ignition powder inside. The flames shot into the gun barrel through the ignition port!

A dull thud echoed through the mountains as the butt of the rifle slammed heavily against his shoulder, making half of his body go numb.

The pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air.

In the distance, a withered tree as thick as a bowl stood amidst the billowing smoke, its trunk riddled with wood chips, revealing a hole the size of a fist!

It was a success! Chen Yuan's heart pounded. Ignoring his shoulder pain and tinnitus, he rushed over to check.

The lead bullets had tremendous penetrating power, almost snapping the dead tree in two! This power far exceeded his expectations; against unarmored targets, it would be absolutely lethal within its effective range!

He suppressed his excitement and carefully examined the gun.

The barrel is intact, there is no gas leakage at the locking point, and the bolt mechanism is in good condition.

His manufacturing method is far superior to that of ancient firearms. The seamless steel pipe used for the gun barrel is something that ancient craftsmen could never have made.

This allowed him to fire his flintlock musket further and more accurately.

However, the wooden support is a bit loose at the fixing point and needs to be reinforced.

This is a perfectly usable flintlock musket, even superior to many homemade muskets of this era!

With this gun, he finally had the confidence to confront or even counterattack against single or small groups of fleeing soldiers and bandits. He carefully cleaned and oiled the gun, wrapped it in cloth, and hid it in the driest and most secluded corner of the cave.

Over the next two days, he made the short musket.

Aside from necessary rest and meals, almost all the remaining time was spent on the human-powered generator.

He had to accumulate energy for the transfer platform as quickly as possible. However, just as he had barely managed to push the energy to around 0.8%, bad news came down the mountain gully.

Liujia Taizi Village was looted by defeated soldiers.

The news came from a villager who had managed to escape from Liujia Taizi. About twenty or so disoriented, defeated soldiers broke into the village in the middle of the night, kicking down doors, smashing houses, and looting grain, livestock, and anything of slightly value.

If any villagers resisted, they were hit with rifle butts and stabbed with bayonets, resulting in the deaths and injuries of four or five people.

Finally, the defeated soldiers seized a few donkeys and some grain they could carry, and left before dawn, leaving behind a dilapidated village filled with the sound of weeping.

When the news reached Gouzi Village, it was like a thunderclap from a clear sky. The previous worries instantly turned into a cold reality.

Liujia Taizi was larger than Gouzi Village and farther from the main road, yet it still couldn't escape the disaster. What about Gouzi Village? Could it be next?

Panic spread like a plague.

This time, without Mr. Wen saying anything more, everyone understood that "armed self-defense" was no longer empty talk, but an urgent matter of life and death.

Third Master, Old Man Han, Zhao Dachui, and Wen Shizhou, whose expression was grave, quickly gathered together to discuss the matter. Wen Shizhou reiterated the importance of organization, sentry posts, early warning systems, and resistance strategies when necessary.

Third Master made a decisive move and officially organized the able-bodied men in the village into a "village protection team," led by Zhao Dachui and another hunter, who took turns guarding the village day and night, focusing on the mountain roads leading into the village.

"Just machetes and wooden spears won't do; we need some longer weapons to keep some distance," Third Master said in a deep voice, his gaze sweeping over everyone before finally settling on Old Man Han. "Old Han, isn't Chen a blacksmith? See if we could ask him to help us forge a batch of spearheads? They need to be made of iron, sturdy ones, with long wooden poles. That way, we'll have dozens of spears. If the fleeing soldiers come, we can form a defensive line and hold them off!"

"That's right! With a gun emplacement, those routs won't dare to charge head-on!" Zhao Dachui's eyes lit up.

Old Han nodded: "I'll go ask Chen. He should be able to manage. It's just... I'm afraid we won't have enough iron. The ones he exchanged last time are probably almost used up."

"Iron scrap..." Third Master frowned. "We've already collected all the scrap iron we could in our village. We need to go buy some."

"Go to Hekou Market," Wen Shizhou said calmly. "Although it's chaotic, the market is still open. Take advantage of the temporary vacuum left by the defeated troops and go quickly. Send as many people as possible, bring weapons, buy iron, and come back immediately. Not only iron, but also grain and salt—buy as much as you can, because they'll probably be even scarcer and more expensive later."

Once the agreement was reached, early the next morning, a group of eight able-bodied men, led by Zhao Dachui and including Old Man Han, carrying machetes, wooden spears, and the only two old flintlock pistols, escorted Chen Yuan and another villager carrying a basket on his back, and once again embarked on the mountain road to Hekouji.

This time, everyone was tense, keeping their eyes and ears open, creating a completely different atmosphere from the last market day.

Returning to Hekouji, the scene was indeed quite different. The market had shrunk by nearly half, many stalls were empty, and the people coming and going looked flustered. Transactions were mostly rushed, with people haggling in hushed tones, a far cry from the bustling atmosphere of the past.

The grain stalls were the most crowded, and prices had increased by a full 50% since Chen Yuan last visited! Salt prices had more than doubled!

The ironwork stall was a bit deserted, but the price quoted by the dark-skinned, thin owner still made Zhao Dachui and the others grimace – it had increased by nearly 30%.

"Damn it, profiting from the national crisis!" a young man couldn't help but mutter under his breath.

"There's nothing we can do about it, that's just how the world is," Chen Yuan said in a low voice, carefully examining the iron materials on the stall.

Most of the materials were cast iron ingots and rough iron billets, of mediocre quality, but now "having" was more important than "good." He estimated the demand: to forge thirty sturdy spearheads, including losses, it would require at least fifty or sixty pounds of iron.

But he was still thinking about making a few more muskets, wanting more.

We also need to guard against the disruption of the iron supply, so we need to buy even more.

"Boss, we'll take all these iron ingots and those iron billets over there. Give us a fair price." Zhao Dachui stepped forward, negotiating in a deep voice, his hand resting on the handle of his machete at his waist. They outnumbered each other and carried weapons, giving them an imposing presence.

The shopkeeper sized them up, especially at the two old muskets, swallowed hard, and didn't dare to raise the price too much. After some haggling, they finally used almost all the money they had on them, plus most of the money Chen Yuan had left over from selling ironware last time, to get over 150 pounds of heavy iron.

They gritted their teeth and bought some grain and salt at a high price.

They came empty-handed, but when they returned, each of them carried incredibly heavy iron ingots or grain sacks, bending their backs under the weight, yet their steps were faster than when they came.

No one spoke, only heavy breathing and the rustling sound of footsteps on gravel.

Everyone knew that what they were carrying on their backs was not just iron and food, but also the hope for Gouzi Village's self-defense and survival in the future.

Back in the village, after unloading the iron materials on the threshing floor, everyone was almost exhausted.

Third Uncle looked at the pile of dark iron, then at the tired but determined young men, and said to Old Man Han, "Old Han, take a few men and deliver this iron to young Chen. Tell him that the whole village is counting on these spears he forged. As for wages... the village can't afford much right now, but Gouzi Village will remember this favor!"

Old Han nodded emphatically: "Third Master, don't worry, Chen is an honest man, he understands."

When Chen Yuan saw Old Man Han and Zhao Dachui struggling to carry the heavy iron weight of over a hundred pounds into his ravine and relay Third Master's words, he fell silent.

He looked at the group of simple, honest mountain people in front of him, whose faces still showed lingering fear and anticipation, and then at the pile of iron materials.

He knew that from this moment on, he was no longer just making things for himself.

His "flint," his meager skill, has become inextricably linked to the safety of this small mountain village called Gouzi Village and its hundreds of inhabitants.

"Uncle Han, Brother Zhao, don't worry." Chen Yuan's voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear and powerful. "I will strike back against these threats as soon as possible, and strike them hard enough."

After seeing off Old Man Han and the others, Chen Yuan turned around, looked at the pile of iron materials, and then at the "Flint" platform with an energy level of 0.8%.

Manufacturing the spearhead requires energy, and transferring the platform requires even more energy.

Electricity has once again become the most scarce resource.

He silently sat on the human-powered generator and stepped on the pedal.

The flywheel rumbled, the gears hummed.

This time, his footsteps were exceptionally steady, and with each exertion, one could almost feel the heavy anticipation of the village behind him.

First, forge a spearhead to arm the village and weather the immediate crisis together. Then, plan for other things.

The platform transfer has to be postponed again.

In the midst of this chaotic world, survival and mutual assistance became the paramount priorities.