A month later, Dai Zi laid the first crude, yet fully functional sniper rifle on the table.
Yinreng stared at the wooden stock and iron barrel in absolute silence. 'A god among men.' Words completely failed him. If a native of this era could push the boundaries of creation so fiercely, how could he, armed with future knowledge, sit idle?
He slammed a palm against the table. He dragged his System from its dormancy. "Up. We have work to do."
The System flared to life in his mind. [Host! Are you finally utilizing me? I have the blueprints and mechanical principles for modern sniper rifles, complete with video tutorials! Searching for High-Tier Missions...]
"Halt," Yinreng cut it off. "Who said anything about firearms?"
[...] The System stalled.
"I need steel smelting technology."
[Host, haven't you spent the last month obsessing over muskets?]
Yinreng rolled his eyes. "How long were you asleep? Dai Zi didn't just invent a revolver; he just built a Qing-dynasty sniper rifle."
[What?! Already?]
"We don't need you for guns anymore. The Qing needs to cultivate its own research and development ecosystem anyway. But I do need you for the materials." Yinreng leaned back, his mind rapidly processing variables. "My grandfather's books from your previous host's spatial storage are incomplete. I found fragments on steel smelting—Bessemer converters, open-hearth furnaces—but the data is heavily fragmented. Once the West hits the Industrial Revolution, mass steel production will follow."
[Correct. Given current production limits, future forging techniques are impossible. However, I can scan existing data, run algorithmic simulations, and synthesize a smelting method perfectly adapted to your current industrial ceiling.]
"Can it maximize impurity extraction from iron ore and solve the fluidity issues of molten steel?"
[Affirmative.]
"Do it."
[New steel smelting technology is a High-Tier Reward. Matching High-Tier Mission... Ding. Mission: Complete 66 advanced mathematics examination papers with a grade of 'Excellent'.]
Yinreng sighed. It was a brutal workload, but his years of relentless math studies were about to pay off. For seven days, from dawn until midnight, he calculated, derived, and solved, his mind functioning like a machine of pure efficiency until the final paper was cleared.
***
Armed with a thick stack of blueprints, Yinreng strode into the Palace of Heavenly Purity.
Emperor Kangxi raised an eyebrow. "More muskets?"
"Materials, Imperial Father," Yinreng corrected, spreading the schematics across the imperial desk. "While assisting at the armory, I spoke with the foreigners Lord Nalan brought back. Their smelting methods differ fundamentally from ours. I cross-referenced their knowledge with the missionaries and my grandfather's texts. Lingguang and I have drafted a new blueprint."
Yinreng pointed a steady finger at the diagrams. "First, we substitute charcoal with coke. We heighten the blast furnace and increase airflow. By blowing air through the molten iron at the base of the converter, we oxidize impurities and generate massive heat, creating liquid steel."
Kangxi studied the complex lines. He didn't grasp every technical nuance, but the core implication was crystal clear: this was a leap beyond their current capabilities.
Yinreng took a sip of tea, his expression cooling into calculated pragmatism. "Currently, our cannons are either bronze or cast iron. Cast iron is brittle. The barrels degrade quickly, lack precision, and risk exploding. But bronze is prohibitively expensive. If we improve the steel's purity and fluidity, we can transition entirely to cast-steel cannons."
In his mind, the System suddenly shrieked. [Krupp Steel! Host, you specifically chose metallurgy to replicate Krupp artillery steel!]
Yinreng didn't flinch. He remembered the history books. The Qing dynasty's early artillery had rivaled the British Empire, but the advent of Krupp steel broke them. The West had weaponized it, while a crumbling China had to beg and bleed silver just to buy 328 Krupp cannons from their enemies, relying on those same enemies to teach them how to fire them.
Not in this timeline. Yinreng's jaw set. He would forge the steel. Dai Zi would forge the guns. The Qing would stand as an untouchable monolith.
"Can this new method truly produce artillery-grade steel?" Kangxi's voice tightened, grasping the gravity of the claim.
"In theory," Yinreng said smoothly, though his heart hammered a heavy, rhythmic beat.
[Host, trust my algorithms!] the System chimed defensively. [Even if human error occurs, I can auto-correct the variables in real-time. We will forge that steel!]
Yinreng kept his face perfectly impassive. They would build it. They had to.
***
Kangxi issued the decree. Instead of building from scratch, Yinreng pragmatically requisitioned an existing iron kiln in the capital, prioritizing immediate supervision over geographic optimization.
By early October, the retrofitted steel plant was operational. By mid-October, after grueling trials with Lingguang, the first batch of artillery steel flowed from the furnaces.
Five days later, Dai Zi delivered a cast-steel cannon.
Yinreng merely nodded. He had grown numb to Dai Zi's terrifying efficiency.
Back in the Palace of Heavenly Purity, Kangxi's appetite had visibly improved. He finished a second bowl of rice before Yinreng brought up the next phase.
"Imperial Father, with our breakthroughs, mass production is the next logical step. We don't need to wage war immediately, but the Dzungars are growing restless. They stole our silage machines this spring. By winter, they will have their own winter feed. The Khalkha Mongols are losing ground."
Kangxi's expression darkened. "The army will be equipped. But technology is only half the battle. We need iron ore and gunpowder."
Yinreng smiled, a sharp, unreadable curve of the lips. "The foreigners have iron ore."
Kangxi frowned. "We are not leaking our firearm technology."
"We won't leak our true technology," Yinreng countered, his tone perfectly flat. "I've instructed Dai Zi to design a new batch of weapons. Specifically, inferior ones."
Kangxi paused. "Inferior?"
"We keep the sniper rifles and the steel cannons as our hidden trump cards," Yinreng explained, his mind already mapping out the geopolitical board. "For the repeaters and revolvers, we add redundant safeties to slow the firing rate. We subtly degrade the rifling to reduce accuracy. We create weapons that are vastly superior to what the West currently possesses, but entirely outclassed by our own active armory."
Kangxi's eyes glinted as he caught the thread.
"We hoard the cutting-edge tech," Yinreng continued. "We reveal the 'downgraded' weapons. When they want to buy, we demand exorbitant prices. Half in silver, half in raw iron ore. The Western nations are tearing each other apart. We sell to one at a premium, wait for the others to panic, and then sell to them through 'unofficial' backchannels. If they try to turn those weapons on us, they'll face our actual arsenal."
Kangxi stared at his son for a long, silent moment. "That is... profoundly ruthless."
"Against foreign powers, Imperial Father, morality is a liability. Efficiency and leverage are all that matter."
Kangxi swallowed the lecture he had instinctively prepared. The boy who used to be a soft, clingy toddler was now proposing state-sanctioned extortion with a straight face. "It... has merit. We will let Dai Zi prepare a stockpile. Have Nalan Mingzhu lead the negotiations."
Yinreng nodded slightly. Mingzhu, hungry to match Songotu's achievements, would fight like a cornered wolf to secure the absolute best trade margins. It was the perfect deployment of human greed.
***
As November bled into a bitter December, Yinreng locked himself within the Palace of Compassion and Tranquility. History recorded this exact month as the time of the Great Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang's death.
He trusted nothing. He monitored her meals, checked the brazier temperatures, and obsessively inspected the corridors for drafts.
"You haven't left the palace in months," Kangxi noted, cornering him one afternoon. "What is wrong with you?"
"I am afraid," Yinreng admitted, looking out at the heavy snow burying the courtyards. "She is seventy-five. The cold is vicious this year. Have you read the reports from the Shuntian Prefecture? Roofs are collapsing. The elderly are dying in the streets."
Kangxi flinched, guilt flashing across his features. In his obsession with state affairs, he had neglected the immediate threat of the winter freeze on his own grandmother. He immediately ordered the Imperial Academy of Medicine to conduct daily check-ups at the Dowager's residence.
'Right. She died of illness, not old age,' Yinreng realized, mentally berating himself. 'I can mitigate a disease.'
He forced the System and the royal physicians to synthesize a low-impact exercise routine—a hybrid of Tai Chi and modern physical therapy—tailored for the elderly. Soon, a bizarre sight manifested in the courtyard: the Great Empress Dowager, the Empress Dowager, and a deeply awkward Yinreng slowly moving through synchronous breathing exercises.
To avoid the embarrassment of being the sole young participant, Yinreng ruthlessly dragged his brothers Yinzhi, Yinzhen, and Yinyou into the routine. Within days, a rumor swept the Forbidden City that the Crown Prince had discovered the secret to immortality. The entire palace began doing morning calisthenics.
On the thirteenth of December, Xiaozhuang caught a cold.
Yinreng went into a cold sweat. He practically moved into her chambers, personally overseeing every drop of medicine. He was fully prepared to tear apart the system or extort Consort De for her 'spiritual spring water' if the Dowager's breathing faltered.
Two days later, Xiaozhuang asked for a second bowl of porridge. The fever broke. She was fine.
Yinreng collapsed into a chair, the crushing tension leaving his muscles in a rush of exhausted relief. The historical death date had passed. He had altered the timeline.
***
In the new year, Consort De gave birth to the fourteenth prince, Yinti.
On the fifteenth day, the Lantern Festival, Yinreng requested permission to take his younger brothers out of the palace.
Kangxi laughed. "You held out for three months. I knew you'd crack today. Let's go."
Yinreng blinked as he realized Kangxi, Fuquan, Lingguang, and a small army of guards were joining them. So much for slipping away into the crowds.
The capital was a sea of light. Lanterns blazed like fallen stars against the winter night, illuminating the faces of merchants and aristocrats alike. While the younger princes chased riddles, Yinreng stood by Kangxi on the second floor of a bustling tavern, watching the prosperous empire breathe beneath him.
"Look at that woman," Lingguang suddenly murmured, tugging Yinreng's sleeve.
Yinreng glanced toward a lantern stall across the street. A plain-looking woman in her late teens was adjusting paper frames. "She's decent. You want Imperial Father to arrange a marriage?"
Lingguang scowled, stepping back. "Women are troublesome. No."
"Agreed," Yinreng said flatly. "Too much wasted time."
Kangxi and the eldest prince, Yinzhi, exchanged deeply concerned glances.
"Don't you recognize her?" Lingguang pressed.
Yinreng squinted. "Is that... Tajiguli?"
Prince Fuquan stepped forward. "It is. She disguised her face with cosmetics to avoid unwanted attention. When you spared her years ago, I had my men keep watch. She sought out her father's clan, was rejected, and eventually used the gold she smuggled to open a modest medical clinic here in the capital. Today is merely a side venture. She has no contact with the Dzungars."
"Leave her be, then," Yinreng ordered smoothly, closing the window to shut out the cold. He didn't ask Fuquan to pull his spies. Let the surveillance remain. Trust was a luxury.
***
The next morning, Yinreng entered the Palace of Compassion and Tranquility, only to freeze mid-step.
Several long tables were covered in unrolled scrolls. Portraits. Dozens of exquisitely painted young women. Beside them lay thick ledgers detailing their family backgrounds, temperaments, and political alignments.
"Come here, Baocheng," the Great Empress Dowager called out, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Your Imperial Father sent these over. Pick the ones you like."
Yinreng stared at the painted faces, his stoic composure shattering instantly. "Pick... for what?"
Su Malagu covered a laugh with her sleeve. "For your Crown Princess, Your Highness."
"I'm fourteen!" Yinreng's voice cracked.
"Fourteen is not young," Xiaozhuang countered calmly. "Your eldest brother marries next month. We must start preparing. Look through them. You don't have to finalize the Princess immediately, but we can select two secondary consorts to start."
'Secondary consorts? At fourteen?'
Absolute terror seized him. His mind, which had coldly calculated international arms trafficking and metallurgical industrialization twenty-four hours prior, completely short-circuited.
"I just remembered," Yinreng gasped, backing toward the door. "I have urgent state business. Excuse me!"
He spun on his heel and bolted from the courtyard, fleeing faster than if the Dzungar cavalry were on his heels.