Chapter 15: This Is Called a Triangular Arrowhead

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Lin Chuan was surrounded by villagers as he walked home. Zhang Xiaonian and Wang Tiezhu tugged at his sleeves on either side, making it impossible for him to free his arms along the way.

“Make way! Everyone, make way!” Hu Dayong and his men were clearing the path ahead, but the crowd only grew thicker.

Word had spread that Chief Lin was back, and even the village widows had come out, needlework baskets in hand, to witness the excitement.

Just as Lin Chuan turned into his own alley, he spotted Yun Niang standing at the gate, looking around. She must have slipped back early, taking advantage of the crowd. He noticed she had plucked a small yellow flower from somewhere and pinned it in her hair.

Lin Chuan wanted to approach and say something, but the throng pressed in so tightly he couldn’t get through. He watched as Yun Niang smiled softly, then slipped back inside.

A loud bang came from the courtyard.

“Don’t do that, don’t do that!” Hu Dayong’s rough voice cracked in alarm. “Madam Lin, please sit down!”

Inside, Mrs. Lin was flustered, trying to pour tea for a few soldiers but ended up dropping the kettle, spilling scalding tea all over the floor.

The burly soldiers didn’t dare to dodge, gritting their teeth as they endured the burn.

“Mother!” Lin Chuan hurried inside. “Please don’t trouble yourself…”

“That won’t do!” Mrs. Lin anxiously rubbed her apron. “These soldiers are visiting for the first time…”

She tried to bring a chair for them, but Hu Dayong dashed forward, nearly falling to his knees.

“Madam, please rest! We mustn’t be so formal!”

He quickly helped her sit down and said, “We’re all under Chief Lin now. We must respectfully call you ‘Madam’!”

The courtyard descended into chaos. The soldiers scrambled to serve tea and water. One-eyed Dragon rolled up his sleeves, ready to chop firewood. Er Gou even grabbed a broom.

Lin Chuan couldn’t help but laugh at the commotion. As the ancients said, “When one attains the Way, even the chickens and dogs ascend to heaven.” But right now, it seemed more like the entire village was turned upside down.

Finally, the noisy courtyard quieted down. Lin Chuan steadied his mother’s shoulder and helped her sit on the polished elm bench in the center.

Under the astonished gazes of everyone, he knelt on both knees, making a heavy thud as his forehead hit the ground.

“Mother, your son has now become Chief and received an award.”

He signaled to Hu Dayong, who quickly pulled out a red silk pouch from his leather satchel and carefully untied it, revealing bright official silver coins.

The silver gleamed softly in the sunlight, bringing tears to Mrs. Lin’s eyes.

“My son…”

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The old lady’s hands trembled as she reached out but hesitated to touch the money.

“You joined the army safely, and that’s all your mother wishes. I don’t ask for more…”

“Madam, you must accept this,” Hu Dayong smiled. “Our Chief still has to marry a wife!”

“Yes, yes! Save it for your bride!”

The soldiers in the courtyard erupted into laughter, teasing one another.

Mrs. Lin wiped her tears and instinctively glanced toward the neighboring yard.

There, Yun Niang was peeking through the fence slats. The commotion embarrassed her, and she quickly shrank back inside.

Lin Chuan stood, brushing dust off his knees, then suddenly raised his voice: “Tiezhu! Xiaonian!”

“Here!” Wang Tiezhu snapped to attention.

“B-Brother Lin!” Zhang Xiaonian stammered.

Lin Chuan pulled two silver ingots from the pouch.

“I said before, the reward for killing the Tatars should be shared by all. Take these twenty taels and split it.”

“Brother Lin, this… this is too much!” Wang Tiezhu’s voice trembled.

“Too much?” Lin Chuan laughed heartily, patting Wang Tiezhu’s shoulder. “This is only the beginning. There will be plenty more as long as you follow me!”

Hu Dayong stood aside, watching Lin Chuan’s profile, his eyes suddenly moist.

For a moment, he seemed to see the general from ten years ago—just as bold and brotherly to his men.

“Uncle Zhao!” Lin Chuan called out into the crowd.

“Here!” Blacksmith Zhao squeezed through the people, carrying a rough cloth bag that clanked with iron tools.

He had slipped back to his shop during the chaos to fetch the arrowheads Lin Chuan had requested.

“Chief Lin, here are the arrowheads you wanted…”

Zhao nervously held out the bag.

“Uncle Zhao, just call me Chuan—it feels more familiar.”

“Oh, that’s not proper. We must keep some formality…”

Lin Chuan took the bag and pulled out an arrowhead forged from fine iron. The three-edged tip gleamed coldly, with finely filed barbs along the ridges.

“Excellent craftsmanship!” Lin Chuan ran his thumb along the edges. “These barbs will give the Tatars a nasty surprise!”

Hu Dayong peered closely, eyes wide.

“Old Zhao, why didn’t you show me these sooner?”

“Ah?” Zhao was startled. “These were made under Chief Lin’s instructions…”

Several seasoned soldiers gathered around. Er Gou, an archer, was transfixed by the arrowhead’s vicious grooves. He picked up an arrow and gently traced the three menacing blood channels.

“Chief, this is…”

“A three-edged arrow.”

Lin Chuan explained, “The Tatars’ armor is mostly layered, oil-treated leather that ordinary arrows can’t penetrate. These narrow, deep grooves should be very effective at piercing armor. But we’ll only know for sure in battle.”

“Er Gou, give it a try!” Hu Dayong ordered.

“Got it!”

Er Gou quickly drew an old arrow from his quiver. Using his teeth, he untied the old arrowhead in a few twists.

Carefully, he fitted on the new three-edged head and tightly wrapped it with hemp cord.

He flicked the metal lightly near his ear, listening to its resonant hum, nodding in satisfaction.

There was no suitable target in the courtyard, so the group moved outside.

Er Gou eyed an old elm tree about thirty paces away and nodded.

“Watch closely!”

He took a deep breath, drew the bow, and nocked the arrow.

The bowstring creaked taut.

Everyone held their breath.

“Whoosh—”

The arrow flew through the air, striking the tree trunk dead center.

The crowd rushed over to inspect. The arrowhead had embedded fully in the wood, with only the shaft trembling slightly outside.

Hu Dayong carefully drew his belt knife and peeled back the bark.

Beneath, three spiral cracks ran deep into the trunk.

“My God!”

Er Gou was breathless with excitement. “It penetrated three, three inches! This is way better than government-issued arrowheads!”

“Normal arrows only go about an inch into wood,” Hu Dayong said, nodding. “These three-edged arrows not only pierce deeper but create wounds at least twice as large.”

One-eyed Dragon exclaimed, “If one of these hit a Tatar, their insides would be shredded!”

Blacksmith Zhao chuckled proudly.

“I tempered them extra hard during quenching. The tips are tough and resilient—no chipping guaranteed!”

Hu Dayong said, “Chief, we should report this treasure to the general! Imagine if the whole army was equipped with these arrows…”

Lin Chuan shook his head and pulled an ordinary government arrow from Er Gou’s quiver.

“How much does one government arrow cost?”

“About twenty wen.”

“And ours?”

Hu Dayong looked to Zhao, who counted on his fingers.

“Just the fine iron alone costs thirty wen, plus labor…”

“At least sixty wen each.”

Lin Chuan continued, “Our military funds are tight. Who wants to invest heavily in untested arrowheads?”

Hu Dayong suddenly understood.

“We need to test them on the Tatars first!”

“Exactly!” Lin Chuan nodded.

Hu Dayong slapped his thigh.

“Brilliant! Once we take down a few Tatars with these arrows, the general will definitely take notice…”

“Nothing convinces like proven results,” Lin Chuan smiled.

“Then we can discuss funding for mass production. Wouldn’t that be better?”

Everyone in the courtyard nodded in agreement.

Er Gou suddenly remembered something.

“What if other battalions come to learn about them…”

Lin Chuan smiled meaningfully.

“That depends on how much they’re willing to pay.”

Hu Dayong laughed heartily, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Masterful! Our Iron Forest Fort is about to make a fortune!”

Just then, One-eyed Dragon pointed toward a distant hill.

“Chief, there’s smoke!”