The mountain folk are actually fugitives; they hide in the mountains and never come out, living off what they grow themselves. It might sound carefree, but in reality, they teeter on the edge of life and death every day—battling the mountains, wild beasts, and even bandits in the hills. After a month of dealing with them at the foot of the mountain, Henry Clark still hadn’t seen a single elderly mountain dweller; none of them live past thirty.

After downing a big bowl of “sleeve-flinging soup,” Henry Clark finally felt a bit of warmth in his body. He was the one who had taught these women how to make the soup: all it took was a handful of cassava flour and an egg to make a huge pot, then sprinkle in a bit of chopped greens. Not only did it look nice and taste decent, but it had little nutritional value—just something to fool the mouth.

The gong signaling the end of work sounded, and the laborers, looking like ghosts, crawled out of the rain into the shed, huddling around the fire pit, shivering and unwilling to leave. The woman in charge of the ladle started swinging her big spoon to chase people away.

“If you keep crowding the fire pit, do you still want to eat? The young master took pity on you all today and prepared something tasty—there are eggs! Drink up, warm yourselves.”

The honest Ethan Reed was nearly pushed out of the shed, but Henry Clark pulled him to sit behind his own battered table, where at least they were sheltered from the wind. He handed him a big bowl of soup—not exactly a privilege, just that there was a bit more egg on top. There was plenty of soup; Ethan Reed had an extra bowl. With nothing in his stomach but clear broth, every movement made his belly slosh like a big animal that had just drunk water. No one laughed—everyone was the same.

As for the coarse rice here, Henry Clark never set any limits. With two strips of pickled vegetables, they could eat a whole basinful. Since coming to this world, Henry Clark found his own appetite had grown tremendously; with a big porcelain bowl the size of a human head, he could easily eat two bowls himself.

It had been a month since he arrived at the worksite. Chief Foster had only shown up three times in total, but unexpectedly, he came by today as well. He looked at the laborers’ bowls, nodded in satisfaction, then scooped a ladle of egg soup from the pot to taste. His eyes lit up, and he served himself a big bowl, sitting at Henry Clark’s battered table, drinking as he said, “I’ve made the rounds, and only your place looks like somewhere a living person would stay. Kid, do you know how to measure earthwork? If you do, come with me to measure earthwork. You won’t do it for nothing—fifty coins a day.”

Henry Clark smiled and said, “Are you planning to dig new ditches? Of course I know how to do it, and not only that, I know you’re planning to dig a canal halfway up the mountain. The water in the fortress up there can’t drain out. It’s winter now, and even this little rain is causing flooding. If we wait for the heavy rains of spring and summer, ha, there’ll be a real spectacle up there. All the work we’re doing this winter will be for nothing, washed away by the rain.”

Hearing this, Chief Foster put down his bowl and gave Henry Clark a playful slap on the head, laughing, “You sly devil! This is what a scholar should be like. Hurry up and think of the cheapest solution. This is extra work—no money from above. If you come up with something, old Liu will reward you.”

“Actually, there’s no need to drain all the water from the mountain. The north slope of Dousha Pass has only this one peak—steep and easy to defend, hard to attack. That’s why the officials want to build a fortress here, to form a mutual defense with Dousha Pass. But the mountain lacks water, so it can’t be held for long. If I were the enemy, and had enough troops, I’d just surround this mountain. In ten days, it would collapse without a fight.”

Chief Foster grabbed Henry Clark’s face and teased, “Didn’t expect we had a military strategist here! Go on, tell me how to solve this problem, so old Liu can learn something.”

Henry Clark slapped the table like a storyteller and said, “A water storage cellar! If you dig a canal, it’ll be at least three li long. At the current pace, it’ll take you at least a month. But if you use the flood pool up on the mountain, there’s no such worry—you could clear it out in three to five days. When it rains heavily, the water will flow into the flood pool, so you won’t have to worry about rainwater flooding the fortress below.”

“Nonsense! Where’s there a flood pool on the mountain? If I have to rebuild a flood pool, I might as well dig a canal—at least I don’t have to cut stone to line the pool. I thought you’d come up with something clever, but it’s just a money-wasting idea. Even the commander at Dousha Pass hasn’t said anything—why should we worry? Just do our own work well.” Chief Foster sounded a bit disappointed.

Henry Clark banged his head on the table, thumping loudly. Chief Foster grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up, saying, “Speak properly—what are you throwing a tantrum for?”

“Heavens! Dousha Pass has guarded the Five-Foot Road for over a thousand years—through Qin, Han, Three Kingdoms, Jin, and Tang. Even Zhuge Liang stationed troops here. Do you think all those famous ministers and generals never thought to use this mountain? The Tang official Yuan Zi’s cliffside inscription is right by the road, and it clearly says there’s a flood pool built of bluestone on this mountain. He even washed his feet there! I don’t believe that after all these years, those stones have turned to dirt.”

Chapter 11: Bragging

Chief Foster scratched the back of his head and looked at Henry Clark suspiciously, asking, “You mean that inscription by the road? I’ve seen it since I was a kid—how come I never knew it said there’s a flood pool on Nipple Mountain?”