Chen Rong woke early the next morning, his thoughts still lingering on the discovery from the previous night.
The knowledge stored inside his phone was invaluable—but also fragile.
Solar panels, even under ideal conditions, rarely lasted more than three or four years. With careful maintenance, perhaps they could endure longer, but ten years would already be pushing the limit. Once the panels failed, his phone would become nothing more than a powerless shell.
And when that day came, all the knowledge stored within would vanish with it.
There was only one solution.
He had to copy everything by hand.
Every useful book.
Every diagram.
Every technique.
It would take time—perhaps years—but it was the only way to preserve the knowledge permanently.
Unfortunately, Chen Rong quickly realized another problem.
He had brought only a single gel pen in the vehicle. There were no notebooks, no blank paper, nothing suitable for large-scale copying.
That meant he would need to obtain paper from this era.
Chen Rong leaned forward and looked through the vehicle window.
The grassland had already awakened.
In the distance, Master Changchun—Qiu Chuji—and several of his disciples were gathered near a small fire. A few Mongol soldiers moved about nearby, preparing breakfast. Smoke rose slowly into the morning air, carried away by the wind.
Not far away, dozens of sheep grazed lazily across the prairie, their soft bleating drifting through the crisp morning air. Two herdsmen, dressed in simple clothing without armor, guided the flock steadily forward.
Chen Rong frowned slightly.
He did not remember seeing these herdsmen or sheep the previous day.
Had they arrived during the night?
"Mr. Chen, you are awake."
Liu Zhonglu approached, holding a wooden bowl in one hand and a strip of dark dried meat in the other.
"We have prepared milk tea and some dried beef. Please have something to eat."
"Thank you, General Liu."
Chen Rong accepted the bowl politely. The milk tea was still steaming, carrying a faint scent of butter and salt.
He took a careful sip.
Salt.
Strong salt.
Chen Rong paused, surprised by the flavor.
This was entirely different from the sweet milk tea he had been accustomed to in modern shops. Instead, the taste reminded him of childhood visits to Kazakh herdsmen in Xinjiang, when his father had once taken him along.
The salty, buttery flavor had seemed strange at first, but warming in the cold air.
Fortunately, he had experienced it before. Otherwise, most modern people would find the taste difficult to accept.
He then lifted the strip of dried beef and took a cautious bite.
His jaw immediately protested.
The meat was extremely hard—so tough that he almost worried his teeth might chip.
The dried beef of this era was nothing like modern processed jerky. There were no spices, no sweetness, barely even seasoning. It was simply salted and dried until it became dense and durable.
Food designed not for taste, but survival.
In the hand, it felt like a tool.
In the mouth, like chewing wood.
"Drink the milk tea together with the meat," Liu Zhonglu said with a faint smile. "Otherwise, you may choke."
Chen Rong nodded and dipped the dried beef into the hot milk tea. After soaking briefly, the meat softened slightly, becoming easier to chew.
"I understand. Thank you for the advice."
Liu Zhonglu watched him with mild amusement.
"Master Changchun and his disciples had the same difficulty when they first tasted it," he said.
"They have been traveling with us for over a year now. In the beginning, they still had access to bread and vegetables, but once we entered the desolate grasslands, such foods became impossible to obtain."
Chen Rong slowly chewed, listening carefully.
"Mr. Chen, you must grow accustomed to the food here," Liu Zhonglu said, watching Chen Rong struggle with a piece of tough beef jerky. "We are still several months' march from the Great Khan's military tent.
From now on, your mornings will be milk tea and dried meat." He paused, his gaze steady. "At night, I shall slaughter two sheep to keep our hunger at bay.
Beyond that, there is nothing else. I hope you will bear with it—there is no dry food from the Central Plains to supplement our rations."
Chen Rong nodded.
That explained the sheep nearby.
"I didn't see these herdsmen yesterday. Are they locals?" Chen Rong asked, still chewing thoughtfully.
Liu Zhonglu shook his head.
"No. Since the Great Khan began his western campaign, the lands we have crossed stretch for thousands of li. This region once belonged to the Western Liao. After its fall, it became part of the Great Mongol territory.
He gestured toward the grazing sheep.
"These herdsmen were prepared in advance. Before the Mongol army marches, scouts ride ahead to identify suitable grazing lands.
The army brings vast herds along, grazing as they march. Wherever they go, the livestock feed, and the soldiers march on.
"These two herdsmen joined us six months ago," Liu Zhonglu continued. "At that time, they drove several hundred sheep. After more than half a year of travel, only a few dozen remain."
Chen Rong absorbed this quietly, marveling at the logic behind it. The Mongol method of sustaining an army while on the move was ruthless yet efficient, unlike the Han armies he knew of, which relied heavily on cumbersome supply lines.
Chen Rong nodded slowly, tasting the soaked jerky once more. He had expected hardship, but the scale and precision of Mongol logistics impressed him. This was a world in which survival required not just courage, but careful planning and ruthless efficiency.
Such preparation is meticulous, and it is one reason the Mongols have no equal on the steppe."
Before his time travel, Chen Rong had read many discussions online about how the Mongol armies maintained supply lines.
Some believed they simply relied on plunder. While that was partly true during campaigns in populated regions, it could not explain long marches across desolate lands.
If an army traveled for months across uninhabited plains, there would be nothing to plunder.
Instead, the Mongols carried their supplies with them—on hooves.
Livestock served as both moving food reserves and sources of milk. Grazing along the route reduced the need for traditional supply lines.
It was simple.
Flexible.
Highly effective.
This explained how Mongol armies could sustain long-distance campaigns unmatched by other forces of the era.
Chen Rong nodded slowly.
No wonder they conquered so much territory.
"Mr. Chen," Liu Zhonglu said, "we will soon depart. Will you follow us with your mount, or ride with us?"
Chen Rong glanced back at the steel vehicle.
Fuel was now his greatest concern.
There was no way to replenish gasoline in this era—at least not easily. Every drop consumed reduced his long-term advantage.
"If possible," Chen Rong said after a moment, "I would ask General Liu to prepare three Mongol horses to pull my carriage."
Liu Zhonglu blinked.
"Pull… your carriage?"
"Yes," Chen Rong said calmly. "This steel mount can indeed move on its own, but the fuel it requires cannot be replenished easily. I would prefer to conserve it for when we reach the Great Khan's camp. I intend to allow him to witness its movement personally."
This explanation sounded reasonable.
In truth, Chen Rong was also thinking about mobility. If his vehicle became stuck in mud or rough terrain, dozens of horses could help pull it free.
Additionally, sitting inside the cab while controlling direction would still allow him to travel comfortably.
Most importantly—fuel saved now meant survival later.
During his reading the previous night, Chen Rong had discovered a crude method of refining gasoline using basic distillation equipment. The process would produce impure fuel, but potentially usable in emergencies.
Given that regions like Persia and Afghanistan contained natural oil sources, he might eventually attempt such refinement.
But until then, conservation was essential.
"So… you mean this large object functions like a carriage?" Liu Zhonglu asked carefully.
"Yes," Chen Rong replied. "It may be used as one."
In essence, all he needed was to attach ropes and harness the horses.
Liu Zhonglu nodded slowly.
"I understand. I shall prepare several horses for you."
Chen Rong inclined his head in thanks.