Chapter Twenty: Refining Pure Salt!

After exchanging a few more casual remarks, Li Zhao rose to take his leave, leading Bai Mo and the others away from the Zhou family’s shop. They wandered around the Western Market for a while before entering another large salt store.

As soon as they stepped inside, a young attendant hurried over to greet them. “Honored guest, what would you like to buy? We have fine Ba-Shu refined salt in stock—its color and taste are both top-notch.”

“No need for that. We want five hundred pecks of coarse salt.”

“What? Coarse salt?”

“That’s right, just coarse salt.”

The Guanzhong region was relatively prosperous and lay close to both Ba-Shu and Hedong, so most people there consumed refined, fine salt. Only the poorest households, those who could barely scrape by, reluctantly resorted to coarse salt.

Li Zhao’s attire was refined, his bearing that of a genteel nobleman, so the young clerk was quite perplexed that such a gentleman would ask for the cheapest salt. Could this be a case of outward splendor hiding inner decay?

Still, business was business; a merchant need only concern himself with what the customer requests. The attendant picked up a wooden measure and swiftly began weighing out the order.

In the Tang Dynasty, goods were not traded by weight but by volume. The most common measuring tool was the peck, which came in two sizes: the large peck, about 6,000 milliliters, typically used for grains such as rice, wheat, and millet; and the small peck, about 2,000 milliliters, used for items like salt, wine, and vinegar.

At that time in Guanzhong, one small peck of coarse salt sold for two hundred copper coins, while a large peck of premium white rice cost only twenty. The enormous price gap between salt and rice, and the considerable profit in salt trading, were evident.

Several attendants worked together and soon weighed out five hundred pecks of coarse salt, filling several large burlap sacks.

Li Zhao paid, then sent Bai Mo to the nearby livestock market to buy an ox cart for fifteen strings of coins. They drove it to the salt shop, loaded on the sacks of coarse salt, and then bought wooden measures, funnels, cheesecloth, and some quicklime in the Western Market as well, stowing these on the cart.

One might ask: Did the Tang Dynasty have quicklime? Rest assured, the ancestors of the Huaxia people were exceedingly ingenious. As early as the late Eastern Han, they had mastered quicklime production and used it in construction. By the Sui and Tang dynasties, quicklime was a common commodity with rising output, readily available for purchase.

“Master, why are you buying so much coarse salt? This stuff is hard to eat, only good for pickling vegetables or feeding livestock.”

“Be patient—just wait a bit and watch me perform a little magic trick.”

“A magic trick?”

“Yes—a trick to turn coarse salt into refined salt.”

“What?!”

Bai Mo knew well that Li Zhao had no friends in the refined salt business. Hearing this, he immediately understood: his young master had found a way to make money.

“Do any of you know of a place near Chang’an that’s hidden, safe, and spacious enough?”

“There’s a spot near where we live, Master.”

“Oh? Where do you live?”

“Twelve li northwest of the city—Badmen Village.”

“Very well, let’s have a look.”

Twelve li northwest of Chang’an lay the old site of Weiyang Palace from the Han Dynasty. According to records, the palace occupied a vast area and contained more than forty grand buildings—halls, pavilions, lakes, and gardens, all resplendent in gold and jade. But nine hundred years had passed, and Han-era Chang’an had long since become ruins; the once-glorious Weiyang Palace had turned into a poor, ramshackle village of just over two hundred households, mostly outcasts and their families—hence its name: Badmen Village.

Liu, Miao, Wang, and Wei lived at the foot of a dirt mound, with just four thatched huts and a spacious yard. There wasn’t even a proper brick wall, just a makeshift fence.

Moreover, the four were all bachelors, with no wives or children, which simplified matters.

Most intriguing was a cave beneath the mound. Its entrance was narrow, barely allowing two adults to walk side by side, but after a dozen paces, the space inside opened up to accommodate fifty or sixty people without crowding. It was well-ventilated, warm in winter and cool in summer, and free of vermin.

Better yet, the entrance was screened by dense trees—unless one approached closely, one would never notice the hidden cave.

The four had stumbled upon it by chance. After a bit of clearing, they set up a wooden gate at the mouth and often used it as a storehouse for grain and odds and ends.

Led by the four, Li Zhao entered the cave. After a brief inspection, he was quite satisfied with the place.

“All right, bring everything we bought today inside.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Liu Yidao, Miao Erjian, fetch some wood ash and a few buckets of water.”

“Yes, sir!”

Though they did not know what Li Zhao intended, the group obediently carried all the supplies into the cave.

Everything was ready—the magic began!

Step one: Pour five pecks of coarse salt into a bucket of water and stir evenly with a small wooden stick until dissolved. Let it sit so the sediment and impurities sink to the bottom, then decant the clear liquid into a second bucket.

Step two: Mix the quicklime into a lime solution and add it in proportion to the brine, using a chemical reaction to precipitate toxic magnesium chloride. Pour the clarified liquid into a third bucket.

Step three: Add a small amount of wood ash (containing soda ash) into the bucket, using another chemical reaction to precipitate calcium and barium chloride impurities. Then pour the clear liquid into a fourth bucket.

Step four: Place charcoal wrapped in cheesecloth into a funnel and filter the liquid repeatedly, finally pouring it into an iron pot to boil.

After half an hour, all the water had evaporated from the pot, leaving a layer of salt as white as snow and as fine as sand. In purity and color, it was every bit as good as, if not better than, the refined salt sold in the shops.

Li Zhao weighed the result: five pecks of coarse sea salt had become four pecks of refined salt, a loss of about one-fifth. This indicated some waste in the refining process, but considering the rudimentary tools, it was understandable.

The magic trick was complete. Applause was in order!

But there was no applause—only several men gaping in utter shock, their bodies trembling. Liu, Miao, Wang, and Wei, overwhelmed with excitement, fainted one after another.

Frightened, Li Zhao had to pinch their philtrums and apply pressure to their acupoints, working a good while before reviving them. It was just a simple chemistry experiment—hardly worth losing lives over.

“Refined salt! It’s really refined salt! How can this be?”

“Incredible! Am I dreaming… Ow, that hurts! This isn’t a dream, it’s real!”

“A miracle… a miracle!”

The four clustered around, each dipping a finger into the refined salt to taste it. The savor proved it was indeed top-grade refined salt—salty and savory.

Salt refining wasn’t unheard of; fine salt was made from coarse salt, but the traditional process needed a lot of manpower, resources, and time. For someone like Li Zhao to use just a few wooden buckets and common materials like quicklime and wood ash, and to process coarse salt into refined salt so simply—this was unprecedented. Not only had no one ever seen such a thing, they couldn’t even have imagined it. Not even the most fantastic magic tricks could compare.

Bai Mo stepped forward, brimming with pride, and recounted how his young master had received miraculous techniques from the Seven-Kills Sage in a dream.

This explanation satisfied the four guards completely. Only an immortal’s art could turn coarse salt to refined salt. Their gazes toward Li Zhao filled with not only respect, but also deep awe and boundless hope.

In history, there had been many tales of immortals passing down arts: the Yellow Emperor, one of China’s founding ancestors, had learned the art of war from the Celestial Lady of the Ninth Heaven; Zhang Liang, one of the Han dynasty’s three great heroes, had been given the “Plain Book” of mysterious arts by the Yellow Stone Elder.

By the same token, for Young Master Zhao to receive such divine instruction, he was surely a man of great destiny, with an unlimited future ahead—perhaps even destined for the highest offices or a princely title, or higher still.

“Would the four of you like to learn the art of refining salt?”

“Young Master, would you truly teach us this skill?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you for your great kindness, Master! We will serve you with our lives!”

A technique that could turn coarse salt into refined salt was as valuable as the philosopher’s stone. To learn such a skill was not only a stroke of fortune, but a debt of unspeakable gratitude.

The four guards exchanged glances, then knelt to the ground in unison, tears of excitement streaming down their faces. If Li Zhao had asked them to lay down their lives for him then and there, not one would have hesitated.

“Enough, get up. But remember: this salt refining technique is for you alone. You must not breathe a word of it to anyone. And the profits from selling the refined salt are not for private gain, but will belong to the entire Badmen organization, for our brothers to feed their families. Anyone who embezzles will be punished severely.”

“Rest assured, Master! If we so much as leak a word or steal a coin, may heaven strike us down!”

“Good.”

Li Zhao had observed them carefully. Though rough around the edges, all four men were upright and loyal—good men who’d risk their lives for a brother. Entrusting them with the salt refining business was safe enough.

Moreover, with most of the neighbors being Badmen, security and secrecy were not an issue.

So, the seven of them worked together. In less than half a day, they processed five hundred pecks of coarse salt into four hundred pecks of refined salt.

The next day, the four guards drove the ox cart to the Zhou family’s shop and sold the refined salt for sixteen hundred strings of cash. Then they bought a thousand pecks of coarse salt and repeated the process.

After a few cycles, Li Zhao had amassed a large sum, enough to solve the Badmen’s financial problems.

What next? Recruit more men, expand production, make wealth snowball, and monopolize the refined salt market?

Absolutely not!

Li Zhao firmly rejected any proposal to expand production and warned the four guards with three words:

First: Secrecy!

Second: Secrecy!

Third: More secrecy!

To expand would mean recruiting more hands, which would inevitably lead to the secret of salt refining leaking out. And what then?

A famous thinker once said: Capital, if there is 10% profit, will be used everywhere; at 20%, it becomes bold; at 50%, it will risk breaking the law; at 100%, it will trample all human laws…

Refining coarse salt into refined salt yielded a profit twenty times over—how many greedy eyes would that attract, and how many would be driven to murder for it?

If that happened, Li Zhao, Bai Mo, White Day Rat, the four guards—they would all be doomed.

Therefore, before they had the power to protect themselves, the salt refining business could not be expanded, nor could the secret be revealed.

Maintain the current scale, make money quietly, and prioritize safety above all—that was the true path.