Chapter 1798 - 903: Capital, Torrent (Part 2)

"This..."

Sha Lifei also stuck his head out, staring wide-eyed. "It’s only been half a year or so, and it’s turned into this?"

Chen Wenxian turned his head and said, "The Ministry of Industry took the lead, and several big Chambers of Commerce put in the money. They say... it’s a ’New-style Textile Factory’, a ’Mechanical Parts Workshop’, and also a ’Government-owned Coal and Iron Factory’."

"They’ve recruited quite a lot of refugees to go in and work—food provided, wages paid."

He paused, then added, "It’s just that the work is heavy, the noise is huge, and it doesn’t stop even at night. The commoners living nearby are full of complaints."

Wang Daoxuan had at some point opened his eyes as well. Gazing at those factory buildings belching black smoke, his brows knitted slightly. "Yin energy gathers, fire sha soars to the heavens. If this goes on for long, the Fengshui of this place will surely collapse, and I fear plagues will arise."

Chen Wenxian gave a bitter smile. "True Man, you’re right. But the court wants tax silver, the Chamber of Commerce wants profit, and the refugees need to eat... No one can afford to worry about so much."

The carriage continued onward, circling past a stretch of empty ground piled high with coal slag and scrap iron, and finally came up onto the official road leading to the city gate.

The closer they got to the gate, the more people there were.

Men with shoulder poles, people pushing carts, riding donkeys, walking on foot—all sorts of folk mingled together, dust billowing.

But what differed from his memory was that there were far fewer mule-and-horse wagons; in their place came a strange, chugging roar, along with the rhythmic clanging of wheels striking rails.

Li Yan lifted his gaze, his pupils tightening slightly.

Outside Yongding Gate, right down the middle of the originally broad yellow-earth official road, two parallel, dark and glossy iron rails had been forcibly laid!

The rails were deeply embedded in a roadbed of crushed stone, extending into the city.

At this moment, a bizarre-looking "car" was running along the rails.

The car-head was a huge lump of black iron, square and blocky, with a heavy copper coin plate inlaid at the front. Upon the plate a cloud-treading, fire-spewing Qilin was embossed, now somewhat dimmed by coal smoke.

Behind the car-head trailed a great boiler, its short, thick smokestack puffing out white steam. With the "chuff, chuff" of the pistons in motion, the whole iron contraption shuddered as it inched forward.

The carriages hanging behind were even stranger.

They weren’t flatbeds, but wooden carriages like a string of miniature houses.

Wooden plank walls, painted in a dark red lacquer; on top, they’d even laid roof tiles, imitating a hip-and-gable roof.

As the train moved, the flying eaves of those hip-and-gable roofs kept swaying in transit, looking rather comical.

In the front few "house" carriages, faint silhouettes could be seen through the windows.

They were smartly dressed, mostly in silk and satin robes.

The rear several sections were open-topped freight carriages, piled high with bulging burlap sacks, bundled goods, and even clucking live chickens and ducks, stacked like a mountain and swaying with the motion of the cars.

This "train" was not fast—no quicker than a carriage by much—but the racket it made was immense.

The hiss of Steam, the grind of metal, the thump of wheels on rails all blended together, vibrating one’s eardrums until they went numb.

The commoners along the street all hurried to get out of the way, covering their ears—their faces showed curiosity, fear, and even more, annoyance.

The horses pulling carriages were startled by the din, neighing uneasily; the drivers had to haul hard on the reins to steady them.

"This..."

Sha Lifei gaped, needing a long while before he squeezed out a sentence. "What the hell is that thing?"

Seeing this, Chen Wenxian hastened to explain, "This thing is called a ’Flint Wheel Car’. It was Your Majesty... the late Emperor, while on the throne, who ordered the Ministry of Industry and Qiankun Academy to jointly supervise its construction. It runs from Yongding Gate in the south to the Bell and Drum Tower in the north. On the day it first opened, the whole Capital was in an uproar, the streets deserted as everyone went to watch."

He pointed at that steam-belching car-head. "It uses an improved ’Steam Engine’, burns West Mountain Coal, and possesses tremendous power, able to haul tens of thousands of jin of cargo. Though it’s admittedly rather noisy, and the commoners along the route complain a lot, kept awake at night by the racket, the daily flow of goods to and from the Capital has indeed become much more convenient."

"All of you, please look—haven’t the mule-and-horse wagons inside and outside this gate now decreased by more than half?"

Li Yan watched the chugging Flint Wheel Car, struck speechless inside.

This thing was originally just a notion he’d casually mentioned while chatting with a few seniors of the Mo Sect—"use the power of Steam to drive iron wheels, and lay fixed rails."

At the time he’d treated it as whimsical talk, forgotten as soon as it was said.

He hadn’t expected that in less than a year, they’d actually built one.

Then again, thinking it over, it wasn’t so surprising.

Emperor Xiao Qixuan was, by his nature, a ruler sharply bent on novelty, even somewhat obsessive.

Back when Qiankun Academy first opened, he had already ridden that oddly shaped, Steam-driven ’Imperial Chariot’ to parade through the streets, stirring up a storm of public opinion. Now that there was a more mature Gang Qi Steam Engine, producing this ’Flint Wheel Car’ fits perfectly with his usual way of doing things.

Only..."

Li Yan’s gaze swept over the commoners dodging away from the Flint Wheel Car, their faces full of irritation, and the clouds of dust billowing up behind the carriage.

Once the wheel of change begins to turn, no one seems to care what it grinds under.

Chen Wenxian’s voice lowered, tinged with a sigh: "The late Emperor once said he wanted this thing laid across the Divine State, so that trade throughout the realm would flow freely and the common folk could benefit. Unfortunately..."

He didn’t finish, but everyone in the carriage understood.

Unfortunately, the Emperor is dead.

The horse-drawn carriage moved with the crowd, slowly passing through the tall archway of Zhengyang Gate.

The soldiers guarding the gate checked Chen Wenxian’s waist token and respectfully let them pass.

As soon as they entered the city, a wave of heat and clamor rushed at them.

The streets seemed more crowded than in memory.

The Flint Wheel Car’s rails occupied the center of the main thoroughfare, leaving much less room on either side for pedestrians and horse carts.

Hawkers with shoulder poles, peddlers crying their wares, hurried passersby, and the occasional luxurious carriage were all jammed together in a crush. A jumble of smells—the fragrance of freshly steamed buns, the cloying sweetness of sugar-roasted chestnuts, the stench of animal dung, and the coal smoke the Flint Wheel Car left in its wake—mixed together and washed over them.

"Make way! Make way!"

A sudden burst of commotion and curses came from ahead.

Following the sound, Li Yan looked over to see, at a nearby alley mouth, two groups of men locked in a brawl.

Roughly twenty men, all in short jackets, some with matching belts around their waists. Though no blades were drawn, fists, kicks, and paving bricks were used with vicious force—dull thuds, shrieks, and angry shouts mingled together, and blood was already visible on the ground.

A ring of onlookers surrounded them, pointing and gesturing, but no one dared to step in.

"They’re from the cart firms."

Chen Wenxian lowered his voice and quickly explained, "Now that the Flint Wheel Car runs, all the bulk goods in the city go by rail. Their hauling business has lost more than half. Luckily the Flint Wheel Car can’t enter the small streets and cramped alleys, so there’s still some profit in short-distance hauling between lanes. Just to fight over the turf of these few alleys, these cart firms have clashed more than once or twice already."

He shook his head, his tone carrying helplessness and a hint of coldness: "To still be fighting at a time like this—they really have no eyes."

Sure enough, no sooner had he spoken than several figures leapt in from the distant rooftops.

Their movements were swift, rising and falling without a sound—clearly practitioners. Every one of them wore dark close-fitting gear with short sleeves over it, and a small Bi’an emblem embroidered on their chests—men from the Captain Bureau.

Almost at the same time, a squad of city-patrolling soldiers came running from the other end of the side street, armor clanking, Water and Fire Sticks in hand, faces hard and cold.

"Stop!"

"The Captain Bureau is taking men! Those who resist will be killed without mercy!"

With harsh shouts, those few Captain Bureau experts dove into the fray like hawks.

Their strikes were clean and precise, aimed at joints and pressure points. With several crisp cracks, the fiercest fighters screamed and went down, arms or legs twisted at grotesque angles.

The city-patrolling soldiers arrived right after, bringing their Water and Fire Sticks crashing down on heads and backs, utterly merciless.

The cart-firm toughs, so ferocious in their mutual beating just moments before, were now sobbing and howling, scurrying with their hands over their heads, only to be kicked over and shackled in short order.

In barely an instant, the brawl was suppressed.

Several men with broken arms and legs were left groaning on the ground; the rest were chained together and marched off in a line.

The city-patrolling soldiers began driving away the crowd of onlookers. Order soon returned to the alley mouth, leaving only patches of dark red blood and scattered bricks on the ground.

The carriage rolled slowly past this street corner where chaos had just been quelled.

Li Yan withdrew his gaze and gave a slight shake of his head.

Sha Lifei spat: "They’re grabbing food off the table like they don’t care if they die."

Wang Daoxuan shook his head and said, "When clothing and food are at stake and a livelihood is taken, of course they’ll fight. They just don’t know when to stop."

Chen Wenxian was silent for a moment before speaking: "The Flint Wheel Car is a major policy of the court. It won’t stop. Not only these carters and porters—those affected in the future... I’m afraid there will be many more."

He did not go on.

Li Yan watched the street scene streaming rapidly past the window, familiar shop signs and restaurant banners looking somewhat old and worn, stained by coal smoke.

The era is changing; some things are destined to be crushed, some people destined to be left behind.

He knew this was inevitable, just as he knew he could not stop Zhao Changsheng from tearing open the Dharma Realm, could not stop the Immortal Gods from reincarnating, could not stop this surging flood that rolled ever forward, churning with Steam, black smoke, blood, and desire...