Starting from 1618 of the Ming Dynasty

Chapter 39 Recruiting and Standardization

The refugee camps on the outskirts of Jinan Prefecture remained shrouded in gloom. Defeated soldiers from Liaodong and starving people from Beizhili flooded in like a tide, bringing the already fragile Jinan Prefecture to the brink of collapse.

But on the training ground of Lu Ji's camp, the scene was completely different.

"The selection process begins!"

Zhao Changying stood on the high platform, shirtless, revealing his well-built muscles, and holding an iron-clad whistle stick in his hand, shouting loudly.

Below the stage were more than a thousand young and strong refugees who had undergone preliminary screening. Most of them were defeated soldiers who had fled back from Liaodong. Although they were ragged and emaciated, a trace of ruthlessness from having seen blood still lingered in their eyes.

"Lu's Company is recruiting a security detail; excellent benefits!"

Zhao Changying's voice boomed like thunder, "Food and lodging included, dry food every meal, meat every three days! Monthly salary one tael of silver, fifty taels for those who die in battle! But there's only one condition—those who are afraid of death, disobedient, or want to slack off, get out now! Lu's doesn't support useless people!"

This treatment caused an uproar among the crowd.

In those days when human life was cheap, a tael of silver was the means for a family to survive, and a fifty-tael pension was an astronomical price to buy a life.

"Damn it! I killed two Tartars at Sarhu!"

"Pick me! I'm a former night scout, and I can ride a horse!"

The crowd surged forward, jostling and pushing.

"Quiet!"

Zhao Changying slammed his cudgel down suddenly, making the ground vibrate.

"When Lu's company selects employees, they don't look at the mouth, they look at the legs! The first test is a weighted run!"

On the drill ground, rows of sacks filled with sand and soil had already been laid out, each weighing fifty pounds.

"Carry a sack and run ten laps around the track (about five kilometers). Anyone who falls behind or throws away their sack will be eliminated!"

This is a brutal selection process.

For these people who suffer from chronic malnutrition, this is pushing their physical limits. But in Lu Yan's view, it is also the most direct form of "political vetting."

Those who can persevere demonstrate strong willpower; those who don't cheat or shirk responsibility demonstrate good discipline; as for physical constitution, as long as you're willing to spend money on feeding them, they can recover in a month.

Two hours later.

Of the more than a thousand people, only three hundred remained. These three hundred people collapsed on the ground, panting heavily, like a group of dying fish. But in their eyes, a light called "hope" shone.

"Congratulations, you survived."

Lu Yan walked to the front of the stage and looked at the three hundred future "seeds".

"From today onwards, you are no longer defeated soldiers, no longer refugees. You are Lu Ji's employees, my brothers, Lu Yan's brothers."

"Fan Fu, distribute the rice! Distribute the meat! Make sure they're well-fed!"

Watching the men wolf down their food, Lu Yan turned and headed towards the "core restricted area" deep within the camp—the firearms workshop.

Before even entering, one could hear the clanging of blacksmithing and Zhao Tie's loud voice coming from inside.

"This tube is still no good! The tolerance is too big! The bullets wobble around inside and don't fire properly!"

Lu Yan pushed open the door and went in, only to see Zhao Tie firing at a freshly rolled-up gun barrel. A pile of discarded iron pipes lay on the ground.

"What's wrong, Master Zhao?" Lu Yan picked up a discarded pipe and looked at it.

"Master, you've arrived." Zhao Tie wiped the soot from his face, looking utterly defeated. "We've got the bolt action for that kind of flintlock musket you wanted. But the barrel... the inner diameter of every single one of the hand-forged barrels is different. The bullets for one gun won't fit into the chamber of another; and the bullets for another gun are too loose in this one. It'll be complete chaos when we start firing!"

This is a common problem in the handcrafted industry—the inability to standardize.

"I'll handle this problem."

Lu Yan walked to the workbench, picked up a charcoal pencil, and drew a simple mechanical structure on the paper.

"We can't build precision lathes, but we can build 'rules' and 'standards'."

Lu Yan pointed to the blueprints, "Master Zhao, from today onwards, stop rolling pipes by feel. I want you to make a 'standard mandrel.' Use the best steel, grind it until it's smooth, and fix the diameter at five-tenths of an inch (about 16mm). All the sheet metal will be wrapped around this mandrel and rolled. Once it's finished rolling, pull the mandrel out, and the inner diameter of the pipe will be uniform, right?"

"And bullets." Lu Yan drew another round hole mold. "Make a 'perforated sieve.' All lead bullets must be able to pass through this hole before they can be stored. Those that don't pass through must be melted down and recast."

"This is—industrial standardization."

Zhao Tie stared at the blueprint for a long time, then suddenly slapped his thigh: "Brilliant! I've been a blacksmith my whole life, how come I never thought of this? With a fixed rule in place, even a fool could forge the same pipe!"

"Not only that."

Lu Yan's gaze deepened. "Our current production is too low, only twenty pieces a month. It's too slow because each blacksmith has to work from start to finish."

"Starting tomorrow, switch to an assembly line."

"Zhang San is in charge of rolling the pipes, Li Si is in charge of the firing mechanism, and Wang Wu is in charge of making the gunstock. Finally, you, Master Zhao, are in charge of assembly and quality inspection."

"This is what we call division of labor and cooperation."

Lu Yan looked at Zhao Tie, his tone serious: "Master Zhao, of the thirty thousand taels of silver, I've already put ten thousand taels into the workshop. What I need isn't just a few high-powered guns; I need mass production. Within three months, I want to see three hundred qualified flintlock muskets to equip those three hundred new recruits. Can you do that?"

Zhao Tie gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with the fervor of a craftsman: "As long as there's enough silver and enough coal, I, Old Zhao, will risk my life to smash it out for you!"

After arranging things at the workshop, Lu Yan walked out of the house.

As the sun set, the sound of the new recruits snoring rose and fell across the drill ground.

Lu Yan stood on high ground, looking down at the rapidly growing camp.

Three hundred elite musketeers, plus the fifty retainers from before, constitute a force capable of deciding the outcome of a local battle.

In his plan, this is only the first step.

"Changying," Lu Yan called out.

"exist."

"Those three hundred men, don't train them according to the Ming Dynasty's military system. Those long spear formations and mandarin duck formations can only be used as auxiliary formations from now on."

Lu Yan took out a copy of "Infantry Drill Manual (Draft)" that he had been compiling over the past few nights from his pocket.

"Practice this way."

Zhao Changying took the booklet, turned to the first page, and saw strange square formations drawn on it, along with terms she had never heard of before:

"Triple Strike", "Hollow Square Formation", "Racket Fire"...

"This is..." Zhao Changying's eyes widened.

"This is a tactic from the gunpowder age." Lu Yan's voice was deep and firm. "In this era of competing to be the worst, we don't need this to be the strongest army. We just need to be one gun barrel ahead of even the fiercest Jurchens and bandits."

"The distance of this gun barrel is the boundary between life and death."

The wind whipped up dust from the campsite.

In this corner, protected by imperial privilege, a modern army with technology that could be described as "alien" in this era was quietly taking shape.

Meanwhile, in the distance, Xu Hongru, the leader of the White Lotus sect, was sharpening his butcher's knife in the underworld of Shandong.

A battle between the "grassroots" and the "dragons and snakes" is about to begin.