Fourth year of Chongzhen.
Fifth month.
1631, by the Western calendar.
Yongji. Gudu Ferry.
The Yellow River surged endlessly, muddy and violent, its surface glittering under the afternoon sun like molten bronze.
By the riverbank sat Dao Xuan Tianzun.
Or rather—the Puppet Dao Xuan Tianzun.
The wooden figure dangled its legs off a stone, holding a thin bamboo stick, lazily poking at the river. Each tap sent up a small splash, droplets catching the light before vanishing back into the torrent.
Tap.
Splash.
Tap.
Splash.
On the surface, it looked like a god idly playing by the river, bored with eternity.
In reality—
Li Daoxuan was sprawled comfortably in his Shuangqing City home, fingers on his mouse, back against his chair, eyes half-lidded in bliss.
Thanks to Co-sensing, everything the puppet felt, he felt.
The river wind brushing the puppet's wooden face? Cool against his own skin.
The spray of river water? A faint chill against his fingertips.
Even the rhythmic clack of wooden legs against stone echoed pleasantly in his mind.
"This is amazing…" Li Daoxuan muttered. "Peak retirement gameplay."
Why touch grass when you could touch the Yellow River remotely?
This—this—was the ultimate cheat code for a reclusive gamer.
Just as he was about to flick the bamboo stick harder and send up a proper splash, a shout rang out from the river fort's watchtower.
"Fast rider incoming!"
A beat.
"Huh? Wait—I recognize him! He's an emissary from Wang Jiayin!"
The puppet's bamboo stick froze mid-air.
Li Daoxuan perked up instantly.
Below the watchtower, things stirred. Xing Honglang burst out of her quarters first, followed by Gao Chuwu, Lao Nanfeng, Zao Ying, and several others. Without exchanging words, they all headed straight for the council hall.
That posture?
Negotiation mode.
Li Daoxuan's fingers tapped his desk. His attention snapped back to his computer. A quick search:
"Chongzhen 4th year Wang Jiayin"
Scroll.
Scan.
Cross-reference.
His lips curled upward.
"Ohhh." He grinned. "So that's how it is."
The puppet Dao Xuan Tianzun rose to its feet.
Clack. Clack.
Its wooden legs knocked against the stone as it marched toward the council hall with surprising urgency.
Inside the hall, the leaders of the Shanxi "Expeditionary Force" were already assembled, sitting upright with stern expressions. The atmosphere was heavy—formal, watchful, bristling.
The emissary stepped in cautiously.
Last time he'd come here, the clay sculpture Dao Xuan Tianzun had scared him so badly he'd tripped over his own feet and nearly pissed himself fleeing the tent.
So this time, his eyes swept the hall first thing.
No clay statue.
He exhaled in relief—
Then he saw it.
On a nearby table sat a wooden puppet, staring straight at him, its painted eyes curved into a stiff, knowing smile.
The emissary's heart skipped violently.
What in the ancestors' graves is that thing?!
He forced himself not to react. Official business. Professional dignity. He clasped his fists and bowed.
"Chief Xing," he said quickly, "His Majesty Wang Jiayin sends word. He intends to gather forces from all sides and take Jincheng in one decisive strike. One hundred and sixty thousand troops are already assembled."
He paused, gauging reactions.
"Chief Xing's forces are also part of the righteous army. His Majesty requests that you lead your troops to join the assault. Once the city falls, rewards will be distributed by merit. Chief Xing will not be treated unfairly."
Xing Honglang's fingers tightened slightly.
Her first instinct was rejection.
Attacking a city meant slaughter. Chaos. Suffering for civilians. It wasn't something she wanted her people involved in.
But—
Last time, Dao Xuan Tianzun had personally agreed to align them with Wang Jiayin, at least in name. Refusing outright now would only stir trouble.
She hesitated.
Then—
"Good."
The word came from the table.
From the puppet.
Wooden lips clacked together as Dao Xuan Tianzun spoke.
The hall went silent.
No one moved. No one blinked.
Internally, every person present screamed some variation of What? or Are you serious?
Outwardly?
Perfect composure.
When Dao Xuan Tianzun spoke, there was only obedience.
Xing Honglang immediately clasped her fists. "Very well. We will go. Please inform His Majesty that I will lead my troops to assist shortly."
The emissary nearly laughed from joy.
This had gone far too smoothly.
Xing Honglang's force had always been a headache—nominally allied, practically independent, stubborn as a mule. He'd expected resistance. Bargaining. Excuses.
Instead?
Immediate agreement.
He bowed repeatedly, all smiles, and left in high spirits.
Once the tent flap fell closed, everyone turned as one toward the puppet Dao Xuan Tianzun and bowed.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun," Xing Honglang said respectfully, "what is your plan this time?"
The puppet's wooden mouth opened and closed, producing a rhythmic, chant-like cadence.
"A quick calculation reveals," it intoned,
"Jiayin is doomed.
His subordinates will scatter.
Jincheng will descend into chaos."
Everyone exchanged glances.
Understanding spread like wildfire.
Lao Nanfeng stroked his beard, eyes gleaming. "The Dao Xuan Tianzun is revealing a heavenly secret. Since Wang Jiayin is fated to die, we'll pretend to help him."
He leaned forward, voice lowering conspiratorially.
"We bring our troops close—but not too close. We watch. We wait. Once the government army finishes him off and his rebels scatter, we swoop in."
Zao Ying raised an eyebrow. "Swoop in… how?"
Lao Nanfeng grinned. "Round up a batch of them, of course. Young. Strong. Able-bodied. Perfect labor reform candidates."
He chuckled darkly.
"Their elderly, women, and children were separated back in Hequ County. Now they can reunite in our labor reform camp."
He slapped the table.
"A family that reforms together—stays together!"
Silence.
Xing Honglang rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck. "Lao Nanfeng, where did you learn such shameless nonsense?"
He replied without hesitation, chest puffed out. "Dao Xuan Tianzun taught me."
Everyone: "..."
No one dared say it out loud, but a collective cold sweat broke out.
Just what exactly is Dao Xuan Tianzun teaching this old fox?
"Enough," Xing Honglang said briskly. "We move out. Pretend to assist Wang Jiayin, watch the show, then collect able-bodied men afterward."
Gao Chuwu laughed. "Sounds entertaining."
Preparations were swift.
They left behind the newly formed New People's Militia to guard the fort—fresh recruits still deep in ideological training, armed mostly with melee weapons. They weren't fit for offense, but defending a large wooden stockade was well within their capabilities.
Besides, Zhao Sheng and Zhan Seng remained behind.
And if things truly went south?
Dao Xuan Tianzun could always summon warships from Qichuan Ferry.
Safety guaranteed.
Thus, Xing Honglang, Gao Chuwu, Zao Ying, and Lao Nanfeng set out together—three hundred cavalry, three hundred infantry—marching toward Jincheng.
As they passed through Hedong Circuit, a massive banner bearing the character "Xing" fluttered high.
The government troops inside Hedong took one look at the disciplined formation and gleaming armor and promptly shut their gates.
No engagement.
No probing attacks.
Just terrified soldiers huddled behind city walls, praying the "bandits" would pass by.
They did.
Skirting county towns, avoiding civilian disturbance, the force advanced steadily until Yangcheng County came into view—territory under Jincheng's control.
According to the emissary, Wang Jiayin's main camp was on Xicheng Mountain.
When they reached Chihong Fortress, roughly twenty kilometers from the mountain, Lao Nanfeng suddenly raised his hand.
"We stop here."
Everyone frowned. "This far out?"
Lao Nanfeng shook his head. "It's close enough."
He tapped his temple. "Dao Xuan Tianzun said Wang Jiayin will die soon. That means government troops are already on the move. When officials pursue rebels, they camp ten to fifteen kilometers out."
He pointed ahead. "If we advance further, we might bump into them ourselves. Twenty kilometers is perfect. Close enough to watch. Far enough not to get dragged into the mess."
Xing Honglang considered it—then nodded. "Camp here."
Scouts were sent ahead immediately.
Not long after, they returned with confirmation.
Deputy General Cao Wenzhao, leading three thousand Guanning Iron Cavalry, was already positioned several kilometers ahead, eyeing Xicheng Mountain like a wolf stalking prey.
The only reason he hadn't attacked yet?
Not enough troops.
Everyone let out a breath.
"…Having Lao Nanfeng with us really is reassuring," someone muttered.
The old fox merely smiled.
The net was tightening.
And they were here not to fight—
—but to harvest.