Chapter 82: The Hot Air Balloon Ascends

Old Farmer Lu Ding pays his respects to Young Master Mo and the three young masters!” Lu Ding cupped his hands in greeting.

“He’s the one you mentioned?” Qin Huaiyu looked at Lu Ding with surprise. Lu Ding still wore the guise of a humble farmer, his face full of wrinkles, the very picture of a man who had toiled all his life with his back to the sky and his hands in the earth. He even referred to himself as “the old farmer.”

“Young master, if you asked another old farmer, perhaps he could not accomplish this, but when it comes to sealing, I indeed possess a family secret technique,” Lu Ding replied with confidence.

When Mo Dun sent someone to invite Lu Ding, he had already explained the purpose, so Lu Ding was well aware of his task.

“Very well, let’s have you try!” Now, Qin Huaiyu could only grasp at straws, but since Lu Ding came recommended by Mo Dun himself, he found himself more reassured.

With Lu Ding’s participation, the progress on the hot air balloon advanced rapidly. It had to be said, Lu Ding truly possessed a unique skill. Using some unknown substance he refined into glue, he coated the balloon’s fabric several times. Not only did the cloth not become stiff, but its flexibility increased, and its fire resistance improved dramatically; at the very least, the risk of fire was now minimal.

That very night, the first hot air balloon, taller than a man, successfully took flight! It even managed to lift a basket weighing five catties.

“As long as I have enough time, I guarantee I can craft the kind of hot air balloon you desire, young master!” Lu Ding thumped his chest in assurance.

Mo Dun watched Lu Ding, clearly amused by this man who, despite his self-effacing manner, was a true artisan. Yet each time he concocted a new adhesive, he always worked alone and in secrecy—a simple man with the cunning native to farmers.

“Good! As long as you complete it, I will not stint on rewards!” Qin Huaiyu watched the small hot air balloon rise slowly, his joy barely contained.

Ever since the demonstration of Mohist technology, Qin Huaiyu had been utterly captivated by the attention of the masses. Alas, the feat of ‘The Hegemon Reborn’ was only possible with Mo Dun’s pulley system, not his own skill. But this hot air balloon was his true masterpiece—well, perhaps with a touch of inspiration from the Mohist youth. But that hardly mattered.

They could already imagine themselves drifting over Chang’an in their balloon, basking in the adoration of the people.

“We’re about to ascend to the heavens!” The three friends were full of delight.

From then on, the three of them attended the Imperial Academy as usual each day, but as soon as classes ended, they would rush to the manor where the balloon was being built.

Qin Huaiyu had chosen the location with care. The estate lay in the southwest of Chang’an, remote and sparsely populated. To maintain secrecy, the trio worked on constructing the balloon during the day and only conducted flight experiments at night. To this point, their precautions had succeeded.

Mo Dun found time to visit several times. He saw that the balloon was growing ever larger, and when filled with hot air, it was as big as a house. Its lifting capacity increased too; the latest version could already carry about a hundred catties. At this rate, a man-carrying hot air balloon was not far off.

At last, another rest period arrived. The three friends, full of intrigue, dragged Mo Dun out to the estate.

“Step right up!” Qin Huaiyu announced with theatrical flair as he led Mo Dun inside.

Mo Dun’s attention was instantly captured by the enormous, bulging balloon—easily the size of two rooms. A huge basket hung beneath it, with a blazing stove inside, sending up waves of hot air that kept the balloon taut and straining to rise, though it was held in check by thick ropes.

“Is it ready?” Mo Dun eyed the primitive contraption with uncertainty.

“Rest assured, young master! According to yesterday’s test, this balloon can already lift five hundred catties to a height of thirty feet!” Cheng Chumo declared proudly.

“And the stove uses high-quality coke. One batch can burn for over half an hour,” Lu Ding added.

Mo Dun couldn’t help but admire Lu Ding. With the resources they had, producing such a balloon was no mean feat. Even if he had directed the master craftsmen of the Mohist village, the result might have been no better.

“Excellent—worthy indeed to be a descendant of the Gongshu family!” Mo Dun praised.

“The Gongshu family? Gongshu Ban?” Qin Huaiyu stared at Lu Ding in astonishment; this farmer-like craftsman was actually from the renowned line of Gongshu.

Lu Ding was not surprised that Mo Dun had seen through him. After all, the Mo and Gongshu families had a long history of rivalry and were quite familiar with each other’s skills.

Lu Ding’s face bore a painful expression. “I am but a cast-off of the Gongshu clan, no longer worthy to bear the family name. Were it not for my youngest child’s illness and desperate need for money, I would never have shamed myself before Young Master Mo.”

Lu Ding himself had not been certain whether the gas he had produced was truly oxygen. At the time, none of them could be sure; after all, no one knew what oxygen looked like when it was first discovered—it just might have been his.

But then he met Mo Dun, who exposed the truth with a simple relighting experiment. Lu Ding was devastated, but to his shock, Mo Dun rewarded him with a hundred strings of cash, saving his child from death’s door.

Now that they were certain Lu Ding was a descendant of Gongshu Ban, the three friends’ confidence soared, though it was mixed with anxiety.

Each of them wanted to be the first to ride in the balloon, but all were daunted by the unknown perils of flight.

“What if we float up into the clouds and can’t come down?” fretted Qin Huaiyu, scratching his head.

At this, both Cheng Chumo and Yuchi Baolin started to waver, not wanting Qin Huaiyu to be the first to ascend.

Mo Dun was secretly amused at their wild imaginings, but he was happy to let them feel the pressure—after all, even in modern times, hot air balloon accidents were not unheard of.

The three looked to Mo Dun, who raised his hands and said, “Don’t look at me—I’ve never been up there!”

With no other choice, the three conferred quietly and finally decided to send a sheep up first to test for danger. After all, as much as they longed for immortality, their own lives were more precious.

Soon, a large black sheep was brought over and tied into the basket.

“Release the ropes!” At the command, Lu Ding personally untied the first tether.

Freed from its bonds, the balloon began to rise slowly. The black sheep, sensing something amiss, let out a series of mournful cries that made the three friends’ hearts race with fear—and quietly grateful they were not the ones aloft.

There were five tethers in all, the longest being fifty feet. One by one, they were released, and the balloon quickly climbed to its full height.

Looking up from below, the balloon appeared half its original size, and only the sheep’s desperate bleats could be heard. This was some reassurance; after all, if it could cry, it must be alive.

But just then, disaster struck. A sudden gust of wind snapped the last rope, and the balloon, with the black sheep aboard, wobbled higher—another thirty feet—and began to drift with the wind.