Chapter Fifty-Two: Xia Shankou Is About to Make a Fortune

“Little rascals! Stop right there!”
The rice mill was in perfect order until these little rascals ruined it like this—how could Old Ancestor Jun let them off so easily?

“Wait, Ancestor Jun, let me explain!”
Wu Ning had his reasons, and naturally wanted to defend himself.

“There’s nothing to explain. Take your punishment!”

And so, his defense was rejected.

An old man chased three children around the blackened millstone in circles.
Huzi, being the chubbiest, ran the slowest, and bore the brunt of Ancestor Jun’s stick, caught between agony and ecstasy.
Clutching his head, he pleaded, “Ancestor Jun, spare me! It’s not my fault!”
He was just an accomplice, so why was the stick coming down on him?

But before Ancestor Jun could respond, Wu Qi shouted from the front, “How is it not your fault?”
He ran as he called out, “Ancestor Jun, you’re right to hit him! It was his idea, and just now Ninth Brother even called him a genius!”

“Exactly!” Wu Ning’s eyes lit up, giving up on any further explanation. “It was this chubby one’s lousy idea!”

Hearing this, Ancestor Jun rained down blows even more vigorously.

Wu Sanhu wanted to cry but had no tears, silently shouting in his heart:
So being a genius means taking the blame!

———

But in truth, Ancestor Jun wasn’t really beating them, just scaring them.
If these mischievous brats didn’t get a beating every three days, they’d be tearing the roof tiles off the house.
Moreover, with Wu Ning and Wu Qi both blaming Huzi, Ancestor Jun could see through it all.
With Huzi’s simple mind, how could he come up with such schemes? It was most likely the other two brothers’ doing.
After a while, the old man stopped, panting heavily.

“Speak! Why would you waste good things? If you can’t give me a reason today, I’ll beat you wastrels to death!”

Wu Ning piped up immediately, “Let me!”
Finally, a chance to explain.

Afraid Ancestor Jun would change his mind, he shouted as concisely as possible, “I can turn charcoal dust into treasure!”

For a long moment, Ancestor Jun was stunned, unable to respond.
Looking at the pitch-black charcoal powder, was this boy really going to turn it into treasure?

At last, the old man swung his stick again, exclaiming, “So it was your idea all along, you rascal!”

“It’s true, truly true!” Wu Ning cried, dodging for cover. “There’s not a word of falsehood!”

“You still deserve a beating!”
And so the chaos continued.

———

“Now tell me, how do you turn waste into treasure?”
Ancestor Jun, tired from wielding his stick, finally stopped, leaning on it for support.

Wu Ning was full of grievances.
“Just watch, Ancestor Jun.”

Ancestor Jun glared, “Then why are you dithering? Show me—quickly!”

Fine!
I did all this for the good of the valley, and after a beating, I still have to obediently show him how it works.
Old man, you’re ruthless!

He quickly sent Wu Qi to dig up some dry clay used for making bricks, and had Huzi keep turning the mill to grind more charcoal.

Watching his rice mill being ruined beyond recognition by Wu Ning, Ancestor Jun’s heart ached—he doubted it could ever be cleaned back to its original state. He raised his stick again.
“Hurry up! If this doesn’t work, I’ll beat you to death!”

Wu Ning nodded frantically, “It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine…”

He glared at Huzi, who was still rubbing his backside. “Hurry up, you!”

Huzi could only think to himself: Why am I always the one being beaten?

———

Since this was just a demonstration for Ancestor Jun, Wu Ning didn’t grind too much. By the time Wu Qi returned with the clay, he stopped.

Next, they set about grinding the clay. The kind used for bricks wasn’t ordinary field or mountain soil, but clay dug from deep down, full of stickiness.
If it’s dry, it comes out in chunks like stones, and must be ground down with the mill.

Ancestor Jun looked on in disbelief—using his mill to grind charcoal was bad enough, but soil too?

He raised his stick again, but Wu Ning was quick to dodge, and once more, Huzi took the hit.

Things only got more outrageous when Wu Ning mixed the charcoal powder with the ground clay and started adding water to knead it.

Ancestor Jun was furious: “Mixing charcoal with clay—how could that possibly burn?!”

“It can!” Wu Ning nodded vigorously. “Rest assured, it will definitely burn!”

The amount of clay was about a third of the charcoal powder—not enough to affect burning.
The mixture was moistened, but not into a paste—just enough so the charcoal powder was damp, able to be squeezed into lumps by hand without water running out.

Once it was ready, Wu Ning called Wu Qi and Huzi to help him roll the mixture into charcoal balls.

Ancestor Jun watched the three of them playing with muddy hands, eyes wide with disbelief. “Is this really going to work?”

The clay did bind the loose charcoal powder together, but it was still clay inside, after all.
The old man didn’t believe it could burn, and even if it did, how could it compare to solid chunks of charcoal?
If the quality wasn’t good, no one would buy it.

“Three wastrels, ruining my good mill…”

“Don’t worry, sir!” Wu Ning promised. “It won’t be much worse than big lumps of charcoal.”

Now all that remained was to dry the charcoal balls and put them to the test.

To speed up the drying, Wu Ning lit the charcoal kiln, arranging the balls in a ring around the kiln’s mouth to bake them dry.

Afterwards, the four of them—one old, three young—sat at the kiln’s edge, chins in their hands, waiting.

“Ninth Son!”
Ancestor Jun had already tossed aside his stick and calmed down.

“Will this really work?”

Wu Ning paused. “It should work.”

“If it does, Ancestor Jun will credit you with a great service.”

Truth be told, the old man hoped Wu Ning’s efforts weren’t in vain—he wanted this method to succeed.

After all, Wu Ning’s materials were far more economical than the traditional charcoal-burning method.

First, the charcoal itself didn’t require large, good-quality wood: broken branches and rotten leaves, easily found all over the mountain, were practically free.

Not only would this solve the problem of the valley running short on charcoal material, but also—
Don’t forget, this sealed kiln method produced much more charcoal than before.

On top of that, Wu Ning had mixed in a third part clay—cheaper even than the branches and leaves—and now it would count toward the weight of the finished charcoal.

In other words—

The old man did a quick calculation. Three hundred pounds of dry branches and twigs, counting the kindling and leaves, would yield about three hundred pounds of charcoal dust.
Add another hundred pounds of clay, and you’d end up with four hundred pounds of finished charcoal.

In the past, even with over a thousand pounds of prime wood, you wouldn’t get nearly as much charcoal!

As long as Wu Ning’s clay-mixed charcoal balls weren’t too poor—provided they could even be lit—then this new product would give the charcoal kiln a new lease on life.

———

The four of them kept vigil until afternoon, when at last the charcoal balls were dry.

“Try lighting a few!”
Ancestor Jun, long impatient, immediately ordered Wu Ning to test a batch.

Wu Ning had no objections. He gathered a dozen charcoal balls, raked a small heap of embers from the kiln, and used them as kindling.

He found a fan and began fanning energetically.

“Oh no…”
Wu Ning fanned for a long time. Seeing that the balls still hadn’t caught, Ancestor Jun’s heart began to sink.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Wu Ning reassured him. “This kind of charcoal is harder to light, but just wait a bit longer.”

After a little more fanning, Wu Ning stopped.
The balls at the bottom had turned a deep, glowing red—they were burning.

Ancestor Jun placed his hand above the pile and immediately relaxed. “The heat is good—there’s hope!”

Although only the bottom had caught, the heat was no less than that of ordinary charcoal blocks. And the smoke—

“There’s hardly any smoke!”
This alone was enough to reassure the old man. With these two qualities, the charcoal balls would be easy to sell.

He calculated that, priced slightly below large charcoal blocks, the balls’ low cost would likely make them even more profitable.

“I just wonder—will it last?”

Wu Ning grinned.
“Why don’t you see how long a dozen of these will burn?”

He wasn’t sure about everything, but on this point he was confident.
Thanks to the clay and the fact that the mixture had been ground and pressed, these charcoal balls were much denser than ordinary blocks, and would definitely burn longer.

———

And just as Wu Ning had predicted.

The four of them sat beside the fire, waiting for the dozen charcoal balls to burn out.
An hour passed, and when Ancestor Jun raked aside the ashes, there were still glowing charcoal cores inside.

The old man was stunned, staring at Wu Ning in disbelief.

“We’ve struck it rich…”

“Our valley is going to make a fortune!”

Wu Ning saw a smile on Ancestor Jun’s face, one he hadn’t seen in days, and felt a warmth and fulfillment in his heart that was hard to put into words.