Chapter Fifty-Three: Planting Potatoes

After that, Minister Lin retired from the court, leading a seemingly peaceful pastoral life befitting his age. He spent his days tending flowers, pulling weeds, and playing chess with his neighbors. He no longer concerned himself with the affairs of state, caring only about the price of rice tomorrow or whether today's dishes suited his taste.

Yet, in secret, he was lying low, waiting for the right opportunity. During his time in Linzhou, he had been quietly building his own power, preparing meticulously for this very moment.

In a hidden basement of a secret residence within Linzhou City, Old Lin had already stockpiled a large quantity of gunpowder to develop a new form of heavy weapon—fire-thunder grenades.

These fire-thunder grenades were the earliest bombs made by refining gunpowder. They resembled lumps of iron, studded with several sharp, spiked iron studs. Each had a long fuse; once lit and thrown, they could injure a great many. They were designed for attacking city walls or for ambushes.

The principle was simple: the fuse would ignite the black powder within the sealed shell, and as pressure and heat built up, the whole thing would explode.

After witnessing the fire-thunder grenade’s detonation, Old Lin described it as, “A roar like thunder; city stones shatter, smoke fills the sky, and not a corpse remains!”

However, the early gunpowder was riddled with impurities, the saltpeter content too low, and the explosive efficiency was poor. Test explosions often resulted in misfires, and much effort had gone into improving this. Now, the final version—the rocket-thunder—was ready for deployment.

The rocket-thunder was a smaller version, a two-inch iron sphere affixed to the tip of each arrow, coated with oil. When the arrow was shot, it would not only attack with fire but also trigger an explosion for even greater damage—a two-in-one weapon.

Armed with this secret weapon, Old Lin was finally confident enough to request command of the troops, seeking to avenge past humiliations and prove that his age had not diminished him.

But fate had other plans. A drought struck, followed by locusts; the state treasury was depleted, supplies were short, and even Linzhou, known as the “granary,” could not provide the necessary resources.

At such a time, when Old Lin petitioned for battle, the Emperor naturally refused—the risks outweighed any potential gain, and no sensible person would approve.

Grand Preceptor Li Heyan, seeing that Old Lin had no provisions and could not march, joined his students in persuading the Emperor to delay the matter.

Upon learning of Old Lin’s predicament, Li Pingyang smiled, for he had a solution to feed tens of thousands of soldiers—but he would need to borrow a few plots of land from Old Lin.

Old Lin was puzzled, but thought to himself, if Li truly had a solution, not only would he give him a few plots of land, he’d find a way to provide gold and silver if need be.

This request was easily met, but Old Lin remained curious and asked, “Young Li, may I ask what you intend to plant?”

“Potatoes!” Li Pingyang replied without hesitation. He then stood up, stretched lazily, and offered Old Lin a smile.

Last night, when he checked the potatoes he had planted in a water jar at home, they had already sprouted and were nearly ready to harvest. Now, in the system’s marketplace, he could exchange for growth potions.

With such potions, seeds could mature in just one hour. He also still possessed the duplication card he had earned by slaying the Demon Spider Queen.

With a few plots of land and the ability to duplicate potatoes, not only could he feed tens of thousands of soldiers, but the entire Song Dynasty could soon have potatoes to eat—it was only a matter of time.

Using the card to duplicate potatoes, he could gather the hundred thousand baskets needed for the army, and, accounting for the cooldown between uses, the task could be completed in as little as two days.

Old Lin agreed to his request and provided three plots of land, along with a waist token, as he would be returning to the capital the next day.

The mysterious master who had always protected Old Lin, never showing his face, was left behind to obey Li Pingyang’s orders, helping with whatever was needed.

Li Pingyang only knew him as Nameless.

With this waist token, Li Pingyang could command some of Old Lin’s hidden Black Cavalry in Cangzhou, including their help in plowing the land and planting potatoes.

The next day, on the outskirts of Cangzhou, a group of Black Cavalry experts, all clad in black, were busy under the blazing sun, hoeing the fields.

Li Pingyang instructed Nameless to fetch him a chair and a parasol, claiming it was for the mission.

Nameless shot him a glare, but Li Pingyang was unfazed, raising the waist token Old Lin had given him as a threat.

Upon seeing the token, Nameless rolled his eyes and reluctantly complied. Li Pingyang, delighted, stroked the token as if it were a treasure, grinning, “You really are useful!”

Soon after, Nameless returned, carrying a chair and a bamboo parasol, his expression sour. He dropped the chair on the ground and crossed his arms.

“Fan me,” Li Pingyang demanded.

“You—” Nameless began, but Li Pingyang simply raised the waist token again, waving it before his eyes.

Nameless glared at Li Pingyang with undisguised hostility, his fists clenching audibly. Li Pingyang edged the token even closer, forcing Nameless to seize the fan and begin fanning him.

As Nameless fanned, Li Pingyang complained, “Did you not eat? How can a grown man be so weak?”

Nameless gritted his teeth and fanned faster, thinking to himself, “Just you wait, boy. One day, I’ll make you pay for this!”

Li Pingyang lounged comfortably in his chair, cradling a watermelon, spooning out bite after bite with a brass spoon, thoroughly enjoying himself.

The Black Cavalry in the field wiped sweat from their brows, parched with thirst, casting envious and disdainful glances at Li Pingyang, who seemed to be having the time of his life.

Li Pingyang, noticing this, set down his watermelon and, holding another plate of sliced melon, called everyone over to eat. But as soon as they put down their hoes, he raised the waist token.

At the sight of the token, they all snatched up their hoes again, cursing under their breath but working even harder than before.

This was exactly the effect Li Pingyang wanted.

He watched their anger turn into motivation, their resentment toward him taken out on the fields as they worked with renewed vigor.

Grinning, Li Pingyang only spurred them further, saying, “It’s not that I won’t let you eat—if you don’t want it, that’s on you!” And with that, he took a big, satisfying bite of watermelon.

Never in their wildest dreams had the Black Cavalry imagined that one day all their skills would be put to use laboring in the fields—and that they would have to endure such relentless torment from Li Pingyang.

At last, when Li Pingyang had finished off an entire large watermelon with his spoon, he declared the fieldwork complete.

He then produced a cloth bag, from which he poured a square object into his palm. Under the curious gaze of the others, he walked to the field and planted the object—this thing called a potato—into the earth.