Chapter Thirty-Six: Distilled Spirits!

Li Family Ancestral Residence—In the Study!

Li Zhao, holding a brush and a carpenter’s square, was bent over a sheet of white rice paper, busy not with calligraphy or poetry, but with the drafting of a blueprint. More precisely, he was designing a new set of tools for brewing alcohol.

The people of the Tang dynasty loved their drink, yet their brewing techniques were rather primitive. All the wines sold in the market were basic fermented brews—made from grains or fruits, relying on natural fermentation to yield alcohol. Such wines were turbid, rough in taste, and very low in alcohol content. Rice wine and yellow wine rarely exceeded ten degrees, and even the famed Sanle Brew never surpassed fifteen. They had little flavor, leaving much to be desired.

It was no wonder, then, that illustrious poets could drink a whole bucket and remain sober, composing verses with ease and flair. Had they been offered the potent spirits of later ages—like prairie white, Knockout Mule, or vodka—not to mention a bucket, just two bottles would send them reeling.

Li Zhao owed a favor to Cui Zongzhi, and he intended to repay it with something even greater. But the man already possessed a hereditary title, immense wealth, and a beautiful princess for a wife—there was little he lacked. The only thing that might truly tempt him was rich, aromatic liquor.

Therefore, Li Zhao resolved to brew distilled spirits and present them to Cui Zongzhi as a token of gratitude, and perhaps make some money for himself in the process. For a man, life without money is bitter indeed.

As a top student from Wudaokou Technical College’s Department of Mechanical Manufacturing, designing primitive distillation apparatus was no challenge at all. The blueprint was finished swiftly, spanning more than ten sheets, with every dimension and internal structure clearly detailed.

He examined his work carefully, nodded in satisfaction, but then paused, a mischievous smile appearing on his youthful face. Picking up his brush again, he added several complex and seemingly vital—yet actually unnecessary—components to the blueprint, and even set a few subtle traps. If mishandled, they could lead to disastrous consequences!

This was not mere embellishment; it was a precaution. Imagine, once distilled spirits were successfully brewed, they would cause a sensation and amass untold wealth, but also attract trouble—envy, jealousy, and those eager to seize by force or trickery.

Whoever sought to steal the distillation technology would find themselves thwarted. Heh, heh! Of course, if someone came sincerely seeking instruction and paid a proper training fee, that was another matter. Li Zhao was quite willing to benefit the masses.

But back to the matter at hand. The blueprint was ready, but to whom should he entrust the construction? Someone with poor skills wouldn’t do—any deviation would ruin the distillation process. Neither would someone with questionable character; a leak of these plans would spell trouble. Just because he wasn’t afraid of imitation didn’t mean he should leave his doors wide open—secrecy was still necessary.

China has never lacked for clever minds; if a true craftsman saw the blueprints and mastered the distillation technique, Li Zhao would be left with nothing but regret.

As he pondered, Bai Mo entered to report: Master Jin the blacksmith had arrived.

Li Zhao hurried out to greet him, invited him into the main hall, served him fine tea and snacks, and called for Jin Bao’er, who had been out playing. The reunion between father and daughter was, naturally, lively and joyful...

Page 1/3

“Master Jin, your visit today—have you finished the commission?”

“Indeed, I have fulfilled your request and brought it for your inspection.”

“Excellent, let’s have a look!”

From his bundle, Master Jin produced an exquisite sword-shaped dagger. The blade was twelve inches long, two wide, and half an inch thick, razor-sharp, and carved with four deep blood grooves that inspired awe.

The handle was six inches long, made of camphor wood—dense, beautifully grained, and extremely tough, the ideal material for knife and sword handles.

On the wooden grip were engraved the words “Blood Drinker,” the name Li Zhao had chosen for the dagger: “The blade that drinks blood, invincible in battle; the soldier’s duty is to defend home and country!”

Overall, the dagger was a masterpiece, both in craftsmanship and materials, worthy of being called a work of art.

But a dagger is meant for killing, not display; its true quality must be tested.

“Swish!—Swish!”

Li Zhao drew the dagger, executing strikes, thrusts, slashes, cuts, sweeps, and slices—lunging forward, sidestepping in horse stance...

Under Li Zhao’s deft handling, the dagger seemed to possess a soul, dancing between his fingers like a flash of white lightning—elusive and unstoppable.

After a few maneuvers, he suddenly stabbed the dagger into a nearby rosewood table. The thick, hard board—over two inches—was pierced clean through. He pulled it out to find the blade unscathed, still gleaming coldly.

“Excellent, truly excellent! Master Jin, you are indeed the heir to the imperial craftsmen of the previous dynasty. This dagger is a divine weapon!” Li Zhao nodded in satisfaction, praising the blacksmith’s skill while caressing the Blood Drinker.

Meanwhile, Master Jin’s eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth agape enough to fit five eggs. As a blacksmith forging weapons, he was somewhat versed in martial arts, and knew many who excelled with daggers, yet he had never witnessed such prowess. To describe Li Zhao’s skill as “masterful and peerless” would not be an exaggeration—the young master was unfathomable!

...

Master Jin next produced thirty throwing darts, each three and seven-tenths inches long, weighing three and two-tenths ounces, sharpened to perfection, and with excellent feel.

As a mountain commando, Li Zhao had experience in complex terrains, mastering not only firearms but cold weapons as well. He had been an expert with daggers and throwing darts—hitting the mark every time within fifty paces.

Now, in a new body, his strength, eyesight, and stamina were much diminished, but with diligent practice, he could surely regain his peak.

The third item was a full set of climbing tools—grappling hooks, ropes, pulleys, locks, steel awls, steel hammers—each one meticulously crafted.

The fourth was a box filled with odd and intricate parts, their purpose impossible to discern. Li Zhao inspected them, nodded in approval, but said nothing more.

Some things must remain secret.

After handing over the goods, Li Zhao was well pleased, rewarding Master Jin with thirty strings of cash, for which the blacksmith expressed heartfelt thanks.

Yet this raised a problem: the dagger had been forged from patterned steel, but Master Jin had lacked collateral, so he had pledged his precious daughter, whom Li Zhao had cared for in the ancestral hall.

Over more than a month, Li Zhao and Jin Bao’er had grown close, playing and laughing together, their bond deepening until he regarded her as his own sister. Aunt Qing and Bai Mo were also fond of the clever little girl.

Page 2/3

Now that the commission was delivered, Jin Bao’er would have to leave, much to Li Zhao’s sorrow.

Jin Bao’er, too, was tearful, unwilling to depart from the Li Family residence, from the little rascal, and most of all from her playful, kind-hearted brother.

What could be done to let Jin Bao’er stay?

Li Zhao, ever resourceful, soon thought of a solution—he would negotiate another big deal with Master Jin, who, lacking funds, could only offer his daughter as collateral once more. Heh heh!

But did he have another major commission? Of course—ready and waiting.

“Master Jin, I am preparing to commission several sets of brewing equipment. Would you be willing to undertake the task?”

“Brewing equipment? What does the young master need it for?”

“Heh, our Li family has an ancestral brewery, and I am planning a renovation. Here are the blueprints—please take a look.”

As he spoke, Li Zhao handed over the freshly drawn plans. Master Jin was astonished.

He had spent half his life as a craftsman, but had never seen such unusual brewing tools—not even heard of them. The ink was barely dry, clearly just completed.

The young master’s hands bore traces of ink, proving that he was the author—truly multi-talented!

“To answer the young master, crafting such equipment will require at least a dozen craftsmen, not just myself.”

“No problem. Recruit as many as needed, Master Jin. Wages and benefits will be generous. I have only one requirement: the plans must remain confidential!”

“That can be arranged. We can divide the blueprints, assigning each craftsman a part, and assemble them at the end. That way, nothing will be leaked. I’ll keep my mouth shut, too—not a word will escape me. If you doubt me, you may keep my daughter as collateral.”

“Perfect, it’s a deal!”

The agreement was struck, and next came the matter of payment. Li Zhao, generous as ever, immediately produced fifty strings of cash as a deposit for recruiting labor and purchasing materials. Once the brewery was renovated, he would pay another two hundred strings as a reward.

During construction, the craftsmen would be well fed—meat and wine at every meal, no one would go hungry.

...

With the deal settled, Master Jin went off to gather his team, Jin Bao’er stayed happily behind, and Li Zhao returned to his bedroom, carrying the box. He shut the door tightly and retrieved a large wooden chest from under his bed.

Inside were more mysterious parts—pulleys, scopes, triggers, hooks, and so on. Some had been commissioned from other blacksmiths, others made by Li Zhao himself.

As a traveler from another time, he needed a few hidden cards to survive in this world.

And the items in the chest were his trump card—a deadly one.

Page 3/3