Chapter Thirty-One: Rice-Fish Farming

The twenty iron arrows were all forged through a thousand hammerings. Each was about ten centimeters long, perfectly sized for a hand crossbow. Fang Han assembled the bolts, aimed at a porcelain piece in the room, and fired. With a sharp crack, the porcelain shattered instantly.

"The power is decent, enough for self-defense, though I wonder if it can pierce armor."

Fang Han pondered this and had Fang Shou bring out his own armor. Fang Shou’s armor was considered top-tier throughout the Southern Frontier. Fang Han dressed a mannequin in it, aimed at the chest, and fired a bolt. *Clang*—the bolt struck the iron plating, piercing through it and leaving a clean hole.

Fang Han was satisfied and ordered Fang Shou to take the armor to Old Wu for repairs. Seeing the hole in the iron, Fang Shou could hardly believe his eyes.

"Master, how did this hole get here?"

Fang Han chuckled, "My secret weapon. How about it? Not bad, right?"

"This... this is truly a divine weapon."

After Fang Shou left, Fang Han considered whether to equip his personal guard with hand crossbows. After much deliberation, he ultimately decided against it for the time being. Such lethal weaponry was a generational leap ahead of this era. Without absolute power and guaranteed loyalty from his soldiers, it was better to keep it a secret.

Two days later, Fang Yuan led a group of bandits into the city and, after settling them in, came to the Protector's Mansion.

"My Lord, those bandits have surrendered. Furthermore, we discovered a hermit."

"A hermit?" Fang Han was surprised. Hermits usually possessed some capability or, at the very least, a specialized skill. The Southern Frontier had been war-torn for a long time; one could not survive alone in the deep mountains without some real talent.

"Did you bring him?" Fang Han asked.

Fang Yuan replied sheepishly, "That hermit is incredibly stubborn; he would rather die than leave the mountains."

Fang Han frowned. "Did you not tell him that the Imperial Court sent a new Protector?"

"My Lord, we did. But the hermit said that either we kill him, or you must come to invite him in person."

Come in person? What an arrogant attitude. Fang Han pondered for a moment and decided to see for himself. If the hermit truly had talent, what harm was there in inviting him? If he was merely a fraud, he would execute him to establish authority and show everyone who was in charge of the Southern Frontier.

"Prepare the carriage. Follow me."

As the sky grew dark, the party had yet to reach the hermit’s residence and decided to stop for the night at a bandit camp. That evening, as Fang Han was eating his dried rations, he suddenly caught a savory scent. Soon, Fang Yuan walked over with a grilled fish.

"My Lord, look."

Fang Han was astonished at the sight of the grilled fish. In this wilderness, especially on a mountain, wild chickens or rabbits were understandable, but grilled fish?

Fang Han took the fish and took a bite. Although it wasn't as delicious as the grilled fish from the restaurants of his past life, it was fresh and carried a unique, fragrant aroma.

"Where did this fish come from?" Fang Han asked.

"My Lord, we caught it in the fields. Who would have thought there would be fish in the fields?" Fang Yuan said with disbelief.

Fish in the fields? Was it paddy fish?

"Take me to see."

The two arrived at the rice fields. After the bandits surrendered, the area had been taken over by Fang Han's troops. They had discovered the fish while inspecting the land and reported it to Fang Yuan. Now, Fang Yuan and several soldiers held torches, illuminating the entire field.

The field was about six or seven acres in size, laid out in terraces, though not as well-constructed as the ones Fang Han possessed. There was a shallow layer of water in the field, and fish could be faintly seen within. They were palm-sized—definitely paddy fish. This variety only grew to that size.

Fang Han took a spear from a soldier and thrust it into the water. Upon pulling it out, he saw the mud in the field was only a palm-deep. Such fields, combined with fish farming, were insufficient to support a high-yield harvest.

"Something of interest, but not much," Fang Han remarked with a faint smile. He guessed that the lack of soil was because the bandits lacked the manpower to haul dirt from the foot of the mountain to the top as they had done.

"Have you surveyed the surrounding terrain? How far is the river?"

Fang Yuan replied, "There is a river three miles downhill. These fish were likely caught from there."

Fang Han shook his head. He had eaten river fish before, but compared to these paddy fish, they were incomparable. These fish had been domesticated; they were essentially a different breed from the wild river fish, a feat that couldn't be achieved in just a few years. There must be an expert in paddy-fish farming behind this.

Unexpectedly, this trip had yielded a massive harvest. The Southern Frontier still held talented people. Fang Han was in high spirits and ordered, "After we return, send men to guard this field strictly."

Paddy-fish farming could bring rapid development to the Southern Frontier. Once the region was stable, roads built, and trade routes with the eastern counties opened, he could sell these fish.

The next day, as soon as dawn broke, the group set off. By noon, they arrived at the hermit’s small mountain courtyard. Upon approaching, Fang Han concluded that the hermit was a man of great talent, as the environment was clearly well-tended. Outside the courtyard, many crops were planted, one patch of which was particularly conspicuous.

The more Fang Han looked, the more familiar it seemed. He suddenly remembered: long ago, when Lin Qingwei described the leaves of a certain plant, he had thought they looked familiar. It was exactly what this hermit had planted.

The name of this plant was the potato.

In his past life, this was what he had eaten most as a child. When he previously helped the Great Zhou restore production, he had ordered men to search for this crop, but to no avail. He never expected it to be here, in the deep forests of the Southern Frontier, being cultivated by someone.

The strategic value of the potato went without saying. This person must be recruited! Fang Han made up his mind: he would take this hermit away, and if he refused, he would kill him. He could not allow this to fall into anyone else's hands.

"Call for him!" Fang Han said coldly.

Fang Yuan prepared to break down the gate, but just then, a voice came from inside. "Who is making such a racket outside? Disturbing my peace."

"The Protector himself has come to see you; why haven't you come out to greet him?" Fang Yuan said, displeased.

Fang Han raised a hand to stop him and stepped forward. "I have come specifically to invite a man of high talent to leave the mountains and assist me."

There was no sound from the house. Fang Han had prepared himself to extend the invitation only once; if the hermit didn't come out, he would not be blamed for being ruthless. Just as Fang Han was about to order his men to break the door down, a burst of laughter rang out from inside.

"Hahahaha! If Protector Fang invites me, how could I refuse? Please, Protector, come inside and talk."

As Fang Han prepared to enter, Fang Yuan immediately blocked his path. "My Lord, be careful."

Fang Han slowly retracted his right hand into his sleeve, gripping his hand crossbow tightly. He patted Fang Yuan’s shoulder with his left hand. "Do not worry. You wait here."

Fang Han calmed his mind and walked into the room. As he entered, he felt the man before him looked very familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere before.