Chapter Sixty-One: Household Registration (3)

Qin Zhen had deliberately added an extra note at the end.

Those with special skills, such as woodworking, smelting, or animal husbandry, as well as retired soldiers, martial arts masters, or failed artists, could directly obtain residence status in the Little Fishing Village.

Detailed benefits of holding Little Fishing Village residency were listed after that.

Considering that many people were illiterate, Qin Zhen arranged for someone to set up a station at the village entrance to explain and promote these policies to everyone.

“That’s the gist of it. I wonder if everyone understands?” Shan Hai shouted through a loudspeaker early the next morning, addressing a crowd that had gathered in response to the news.

“Young man, I get what you said about free medical care and schooling, and gifts of fish and meat during holidays. But what does ‘priority protection’ for Little Fishing Village residents mean?” an old man raised his hand to ask.

“In simple terms, if villagers from Little Fishing Village and outsiders encounter bandits or pirates at the same time, our village guards will protect Little Fishing Village residents first. Understand?” Shan Hai replied.

That was easy enough to grasp. Naturally, you protect your own villagers first!

“So, if we want to work in Little Fishing Village but not join it, we have to buy a temporary residence permit, right?” a burly man called out, his wife and children at his side.

He was clearly new, his face unfamiliar.

His clothes were tattered, his hair and skin covered in dust—likely another refugee fleeing from hardship.

“That’s right,” Shan Hai nodded.

“How much does the temporary permit cost?” the man pressed.

This was a question many villagers cared about. Everyone pricked up their ears to listen.

Shan Hai glanced at Qin Zhen’s pricing and explained, “One permit costs a hundred coins and lasts three months.”

That wasn’t expensive. Joining the fishing team and catching fish just once would earn it back.

Qin Zhen didn’t want to force everyone to join Little Fishing Village; that would run counter to his original intentions. He preferred that people genuinely liked the village, admired its rules, yearned for its happy life, and chose to join of their own accord.

Only such people would truly share the village’s heart.

In fact, most people couldn’t wait to join, especially those who had spent some time in Little Fishing Village and knew well the benefits.

Shan Hai was quickly surrounded by eager villagers, though most were applying for temporary permits. They hoped to work hard for a month, then join the village for a new life. Some chose to join the village guard, but not many.

Meanwhile, the village was recruiting for logging and land clearing; Old Li waited by the stone block with a cart of hot porridge and steamed buns, ready to hand breakfast to those who managed to secure a spot.

“Papa, I’m hungry…”

A frail little girl gazed longingly at the steaming food, swallowing with difficulty.

After fleeing all this way, they hadn’t eaten properly in days.

Looking at his hungry wife and daughter, and then at the bustling village entrance, the man pondered for a long time before finally approaching Shan Hai.

“Recruitment is over there,” Shan Hai pointed to Li Han, who was selecting workers.

“I want to join Little Fishing Village. Is that allowed?” the man asked bluntly.

“It’s allowed.” Shan Hai sized up the family with some surprise. “If you want to join directly, you might need to go to the village guard.”

The man shook his head and pointed at the notice.

“I’m a blacksmith.”

When Qin Zhen arrived, the family was already munching on steamed buns.

“Eat slowly. There’s plenty of fish and meat buns, more than enough!” Old Li beamed as he served them bowls of fish soup. “Starved, aren’t you? Here, drink some soup to warm yourselves and drive out the chill!”

This scene made the outsiders eating simple porridge and buns envious.

“You know how to forge iron?” Qin Zhen looked at the man—his robust physique and powerful arms were convincing.

“This is Qin Zhen, the head of Little Fishing Village,” Shan Hai introduced.

Although the village had a chief, everyone knew that Qin Zhen was the one in charge.

Learning that this youthful boy was the leader of such a large settlement, the man was clearly surprised, giving Qin Zhen a careful look before standing and saying in a deep voice,

“My name is Zhang Luo. I forged iron for several years in the western town.”

A blacksmith was highly valued in this world.

Especially in Da Shang, where ironworking was strictly controlled; smelters often had special status and official ties.

In these times, not just anyone could learn ironworking. At minimum, it had to be a family trade, certified by the authorities. If one learned halfway or without proper lineage, they risked being charged with illegal smelting.

Thus, blacksmiths drifting among the common folk were rare.

And few dared employ them.

But Qin Zhen didn’t concern himself with such things. The signboard naming the village a model in fighting pirates still hung at the entrance. He was acting on the orders of the coastal county magistrate to develop local militia against pirates. Recruiting blacksmiths to forge iron and repair weapons was perfectly justified.

Qin Zhen didn’t probe Zhang Luo’s origins, but instead took out a captured Japanese sword.

“Can you smelt this?”

Zhang Luo’s eyes lit up as he took and examined the sword, unable to keep from exclaiming, “Excellent blade!”

Then, puzzled, he looked at Qin Zhen. “Why melt down such a fine sword?”

The Japanese sword, fine as it was, wasn’t suited to Qin Zhen’s use.

Its slender shape was unlike the weapons he trained with as a soldier.

Besides, fighting pirates with their own style of blade felt like matching his weakness to their strength. Qin Zhen had no intention of risking his life, next time he met pirates, with a weapon suited to them.

“Just tell me if you can melt it,” Qin Zhen asked.

“Of course it can be melted. But what do you want to make from it?” Zhang Luo replied.

“A long blade—about eight feet. The blade thick and wide, not sharpened except for a palm-length of edge at the tip, so it can be gripped,” Qin Zhen explained, gesturing as he spoke.

Zhang Luo listened in amazement.

He had been forging for years, but had never seen such a weapon.

A blade without a sharpened edge—what sort of knife was that?

And eight feet long was more like a short spear than a knife.

“Not enough material,” Zhang Luo said bluntly after hearing Qin Zhen’s description.

“I’ll need an anvil, a furnace… a good hammer, and plenty of iron ore.”

“You’re a blacksmith and don’t have an ancestral hammer?” Shan Hai looked skeptical. “You aren’t a fake, here to scam food and drink, are you?”

“My father is the best blacksmith! Lots of people came to him for forging!” Zhang Luo’s daughter protested, pouting.

Qin Zhen scratched his head. “I don’t have what you need yet. It’ll take some time.”

“I can wait.” Zhang Luo was the taciturn type. “Just let me know when everything is ready.”

He paused and looked at Qin Zhen. “Since there’s no forge in the village yet, find me some work in the meantime.”

He wasn’t one to freeload.

Qin Zhen thought about asking Zhang Luo if he’d like to temporarily join the village guard—his build was a waste if not used for fighting. But considering his rare talent as a blacksmith, it would be a great loss if he were injured outside.

After careful thought, Qin Zhen asked,

“Can you swim?”