My cultivation disguise has been exposed by Xiao Sizi.

On the ridge of the field.

Lu Gui's whole body stiffened.

It felt like I was frozen in place.

He glanced at the few burly men who were exhausted and collapsed on the ground in his field, and then at Old Sun.

A bone-chilling cold shot from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my head.

How did the Shandong gentry control the country?

They rely on the land. They rely on cattle. They rely on human labor.

Turning the soil is difficult; it requires strong laborers and healthy oxen.

These resources are all in the hands of powerful families.

Ordinary people could only rely on powerful families, borrowing oxen and farm tools, working like beasts of burden.

But now.

A thin old man.

A sick cow.

A strange plow.

Three acres of land in half a day.

The barrier to entry for human resources has been eliminated.

The threshold for cattle has been removed.

Lu Gui's fingers began to tremble violently.

He couldn't hold onto the ledger anymore.

"Clatter".

The thick ledger fell into the muddy puddle at his feet.

Mud splattered onto the silk robe.

He didn't even glance at it.

"It's over..." Lu Gui's lips trembled, his voice shaking, "It's all over..."

The labor monopoly upon which the Shandong gentry depended for survival was ruthlessly shattered at this moment by this crooked wooden plow.

"Prepare the horses! Quickly, prepare the horses!"

Lu Gui turned around as if he had gone mad.

They scrambled and crawled up the ridge of the field.

He slipped and fell into the mud.

He got up and kept running, snatched the horse from the servant's hand, mounted it, and whipped its rump with all his might, galloping wildly towards Chang'an.

That night.

The Lu family's villa in Fanyang. A secret room.

Several heads of prominent families gathered together.

On the table sat a curved plow that had been bought at a high price from the black market.

The Lu family patriarch's face was so gloomy it could drip water.

He looked at the several old blacksmiths from the clan kneeling below.

"Tear it down!" Patriarch Lu gritted his teeth. "Tear it down tonight! Draw up the blueprints! For the wooden parts, make me a mold by dawn tomorrow!"

He pointed to the dark plowshare.

"Start the furnace on this iron head right away! We have plenty of iron ore! If they sell it for fifty coins, we'll sell it for forty! We absolutely cannot let the Prince of Qin's mansion swallow up the entire market for farm tools!"

The old blacksmith kowtowed and accepted the order. Several men carried the curved plow away.

One hour later.

Flames soared into the sky from the blacksmith's shop in the backyard.

The old blacksmith ran back to the secret room, his brow beaded with sweat.

He was holding a piece of iron that had been broken in two.

"Master..." The old blacksmith knelt down with a thud, his voice trembling with sobs.

"Is the mold ready?" the Lu family head asked anxiously.

The old blacksmith held the broken iron above his head, his whole body trembling.

"Master, we can't make this plowshare."

"Nonsense! What can't a piece of pig iron make!"

The old blacksmith kowtowed repeatedly, his forehead bleeding from the impact. "It's not pig iron! I've never seen anything like it in my entire life of blacksmithing! It's as hard as steel, yet as light as wood! Our furnace isn't hot enough. The iron sheets forged through forced quenching... they break right off the rocks!"

"Keep trying."

... ...

"Smack."

A broken piece of iron was thrown on the table.

It smashed a hole.

The secret room in the Lu family's villa in Fanyang was dark.

Only a few rays of sunlight peeked through the cracks in the wall.

Dust tumbled inside the beam of light.

The head of the Lu family sat in the shadows, saying nothing.

"It's broken. Completely broken." The old blacksmith, kneeling on the ground, trembled all over, his head pressed against the blue bricks. "Thirty-odd master craftsmen, swinging their hammers all night. The plowshare they forged, the moment it hit a stone in the ground, it snapped in two."

The head of the Cui clan of Boling sat to one side. He reached out and picked up the broken piece of iron. He ran his fingers along the broken edge.

Very smooth. Hard and prickly to the touch.

He drew the dagger from his waist and slashed the broken iron with the blade.

"Crack."

The dagger's blade was chipped. Not even a white mark was left on the broken piece of iron.

"Steel." The head of the Cui family of Boling threw the iron sheet back onto the table. His voice was hoarse. "They used steel to forge the iron heads used for plowing. How is that possible?"

The room was deathly silent.

Forging steel into blades was a process reserved for crafting weapons for generals. It was extremely expensive and time-consuming. To use something like that to plow the fields?

But ironically, in the Cui family's shop in Qinghe, this item, along with its wooden frame, only cost fifty coins.

"Buy it." The Lu family patriarch gritted his teeth and spat out a single word. "Send someone to buy it. Change into the peasant's short clothes and go queue up."

The steward next to him bent down even lower.

"We tried. We couldn't buy any." The manager swallowed hard. "The Cui family's shop in Qinghe checks household registration. Each household registered as a farmer is limited to one item. Our people don't have land deeds for small farmers, and even though they have the money in their hands, they won't sell to us."

A dead end.

We can't make it ourselves.

You can't buy it with money.

The head of the Lu family leaned back in his chair.

Close your eyes.

His chest heaved violently.

Despite having tens of thousands of acres of fertile land, when spring plowing arrived, they couldn't find a single plow to turn the soil.

……

The sun rose higher. The wind outside the city still carried a chill.

Lu's Imperial Estate.

Manager Lu Gui rode his horse back along the ridge of the field.

Mud splattered onto the silk robe.

The fields were quiet.

There was no mooing of cows.

There was no sound of whips being lashed.

There were no shouts or calls.

Hundreds of tenants sat haphazardly on the ridges of the fields.

Some had grass roots in their mouths.

Some were hugging their knees and staring blankly.

The new straight-shafted plow, which was just installed yesterday, was carelessly thrown into the mud.

The cow was tethered to a tree, chewing on dry grass.

Lu Gui reined in his horse.

He jumped off the horse.

He pulled out the riding whip from his waist.

He strode over.

"Snapped!"

The whip lashed hard against the muddy ground.

Mud and water splashed, splattering the faces of several tenant farmers in the front row.

"Have you all gone too far?!" Lu Gui roared in his hoarse voice, "What time is it! Aren't you going to work? Are you just sitting here waiting to die?!"

Nobody moved.

Hundreds of eyes stared blankly at him. Their gazes were numb, yet held a deathly intensity.

In the front row is an elderly farmer in his fifties named Wang Er.

He supported himself on his knees with both hands and slowly stood up.

He patted the mud off his trouser legs.

"Manager Lu," Wang Er said, his voice hoarse. "I can't do it anymore."

"Can't do it?" Lu Gui raised his whip. "I'll whip you to death, then you'll be able to do it!"

The whip did not fall.

Wang Er didn't dodge. He stared straight at Lu Gui.

"I can't work even if I try my hardest." Wang Er raised his chapped hand and pointed to the hard soil beneath his feet. "Spring drought. The ground has crusted over. That old wooden plow can't push it down."

He turned around and pointed into the distance. Those were the fields of the Cui family of Qinghe.

"Over there. A man and an ox. He plowed three acres in one morning. Now he's gone home to cuddle with his wife and go to sleep."

Wang Er then pointed to the straight-shafted plow in the mud.

"Here we are. Three people, two oxen. We're so tired we're vomiting bile, and we've only managed to cover half an acre in half a day. The oxen can't even stand up anymore."

Wang Er took a step closer and looked directly at Lu Gui.

"If you miss the spring planting, the autumn harvest will be reduced. After paying your rent, the little grain left won't last through the winter. Whether you work or not, you'll die."

Lu Gui was furious: "You want to rebel?!"

"We're not rebelling. We're just talking about reason." Wang Er pointed to Chang'an in the distance. "Our master is going to buy those new plows. If he gets them, we'll work ourselves to the bone. If he doesn't, we'll just sit here and wait to die."