Chapter 2: The Ternary Propellant System

She didn’t volunteer to scrub the pot because she wanted to stand out, nor was it out of any desire to help the other “meat people.” Her real aim was the partially burned charcoal beneath the iron cauldron.

Charcoal was a precious commodity here. It could provide warmth, serve as a tooth cleaner, and—more importantly—was one of the key ingredients in the ternary-system gunpowder.

As Bai Xian carefully ground the last piece of charcoal into powder and stored the fine black dust in a clay jar, sealing it tight, a soft, timid voice sounded beside her.

“Th-thank you…”

Bai Xian did not pause until every fragment was reduced to powder. Only then did she lift her head to look in the direction of the voice.

A girl of thirteen or fourteen stood there, eyes bright and features delicate. Perhaps she hadn’t been captive long; a trace of human vitality still clung to her, setting her apart from the other “meat people.”

From the way the group had arranged themselves earlier, if Bai Xian hadn’t stepped forward to clean the pot, this girl would likely have been forced to do it. Bai Xian’s action, though unintentional, had shielded her.

“I didn’t mean to help you, so there’s no need to thank me,” Bai Xian replied, her voice light and clear as a nightingale’s, but her expression cool and distant.

The girl hadn’t expected this response. She stared, momentarily stunned, tears welling in her large, luminous eyes.

Bai Xian felt a surge of headache—dealing with a woman’s tears was, by far, her greatest weakness.

“Is there something you need? If not, please don’t bother me,” she said. Once she completed the Azure Book’s task, she could return to Earth; she had no wish to become entangled with the people or affairs of this world.

“I… my name is Ma Xiaowei… I wanted to give you this…” Ma Xiaowei thrust a palm-sized bundle into her hands.

Bai Xian frowned, instinctively wanting to toss it aside.

Ma Xiaowei hurried to explain, “You’ve misunderstood. This isn’t from the cauldron.”

Only then did Bai Xian see it was a baked wild vegetable bun, not part of the cauldron’s dreadful stew.

She hadn’t eaten in two days. Almost unconsciously, Bai Xian gripped the bun tighter—clean food was a rarity here.

Seeing her “benefactor” accept the offering, Ma Xiaowei brightened, skipping away toward the firewood pile. In another place, the girl would have been a carefree, growing child—had they not been trapped in the dog demon’s lair.

Bai Xian’s gaze dropped to the wild vegetable bun in her hand. It was hardly a delicacy, but in this place, it was a rare, wholesome meal. Ma Xiaowei must have gone to great trouble to save it.

She broke it open. The dough inside was a little undercooked, but Bai Xian didn’t mind. She took small, careful bites with a sip of water, forcing it down despite the rough texture and the scratchy wild greens.

Even half-cooked, it was better than nothing. She couldn’t afford to go hungry—not if she wanted to see her plans through.

In no time, she had eaten half. She wrapped the rest in leaves and tucked it carefully into the pocket of her work trousers.

...

Perhaps because she’d helped with the cooking, the cauldron’s strange aroma of meat was less overpowering today. When the meal was over, Bai Xian again took up the task of scrubbing the pot, using the opportunity to rap gently on its side.

The cast iron rang with a heavy, muffled sound. It was sturdy—she muttered under her breath, “It should withstand an explosion…”

Soon the break was over. Driven by the whip, the “meat people” were herded back into the dark, stifling cave. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, plunging them into gloom.

No one dared complain. When that door opened again, it would mean the dog demon was ready to choose its next meal.

Everyone shrank into corners, terrified of being picked for the cauldron’s stew.

Bai Xian found a corner for herself and reviewed the fruits of the past few days.

Since the Azure Book had appeared, she’d been considering how to complete her task. The dog demon, capable of abducting dozens of girls from the human world, was one thing; but even Yang Ma—the burly, broad-shouldered woman—wasn’t someone her skinny, frail self could hope to challenge head-on.

Accomplishing her mission required an unorthodox approach.

And what could grant a delicate girl the power to stand against a dog demon in a short time? Only one thing came to mind: gunpowder.

Making modern gunpowder from scratch in this world was nearly impossible. But another kind—the so-called “ternary-system gunpowder” from countless transmigration novels and dramas—could be assembled by hand. One part saltpetre, two parts sulfur, three parts charcoal: the famous “one nitrate, two sulfur, three charcoal” formula.

But if you followed the old mnemonic exactly, you ended up with nothing more than a pretty firework display. To make it explode like a bomb, the proportions had to be adjusted.

The modified mixture wasn’t suitable for propelling bullets, but it packed the strongest explosive punch.

If you added sugar, you’d have the black powder once used in early mining, but sugar was hard to come by in this world.

Returning to the ingredients: saltpetre, sulfur, charcoal. Saltpetre was abundant in nature, especially along riverbeds and rock faces; here in the dog demon’s mountain, it glistened white on the cave walls. Bai Xian had collected enough over the past several days to fill more than half a clay jar.

Today, thanks to her pot-scrubbing, she’d finally gathered enough charcoal. Only sulfur remained.

That, too, she had already identified a source for. Now all she needed was the right opportunity…

The door creaked open—much earlier than usual. Yang Ma, breathing heavily, strode into the cave.

“The Dog Master’s home early today. Supper will be sooner than usual. Who wants to volunteer?”

She always asked, but no one was foolish enough to step forward.

“No volunteers? Don’t blame me for choosing at random, then… You! Out here!”

She drew her whip, pointing at a woman, and dragged her out by the hair amid desperate screams and pleas.

“Please, Yang Ma, have mercy! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to be eaten by a monster! Help me! Save me!”

Ma Xiaowei struggled like a wild animal, but against the burly woman, her resistance was feeble and futile. Red welts from the whip blossomed on her skin.

No one dared intervene; the others simply cowered, terrified of drawing Yang Ma’s attention. They weren’t afraid of her alone—the true terror was the dog demon behind her.

“I’ll go.”

A clear, calm voice rang out. The cave fell silent.

Yang Ma, whip raised, stared in surprise. Ma Xiaowei forgot to even beg.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I’ll go,” Bai Xian repeated, a faint, sardonic smile on her lips. “Let her go.”

Yang Ma absent-mindedly released Ma Xiaowei, who scrambled to the corner in terror. She eyed Bai Xian with curiosity—the odd, beautiful girl in strange clothes who had blundered into the cave alone. Clearly not very bright, she thought; who else would volunteer for this fate, not knowing what awaited them tonight?

“Well, since you’re so eager, go on then,” Yang Ma sneered. “Go soak in the hot spring first—the Dog Master doesn’t like his food dirty.”

Bai Xian said nothing, clutching her clay jar as she walked out.

“What’s in the jar?”

“Just some charcoal powder—for cleaning my teeth,” she replied.

Yang Ma opened the jar and sniffed. Sure enough, it was filled with fine charcoal dust. Finding nothing amiss, she let Bai Xian carry it out.