Grumbling was one thing. Reality was another.
Flat Rabbit led his army into Kaixian with the expression of a man who had just finished arguing with the sky and lost.
The county magistrate and the Tujia Pacification Commissioner, Ran Ke, practically sprinted out of the yamen to receive him. Both men bowed so low their hats nearly scraped the dirt.
Their smiles were polite.
Their eyes were terrified.
If this relief force packed up and left, the rebels would circle back like hungry wolves. Kaixian would not survive a second bite.
Flat Rabbit entered the city.
What he saw made him freeze.
The streets were swollen with refugees. Families huddled under broken eaves. Children clung to bundles larger than themselves. Old women stared blankly at the sky as if waiting for someone to explain what went wrong.
Just as Ran Ke had said, villagers from the surrounding mountains had flooded into the county seat.
It was the same old story.
When bandits ravaged Shaanxi, Shanxi, and Henan, the peasants ran. They always ran. They abandoned ancestral graves, fields, houses built by three generations of hands. When steel and fire came, dignity packed up and left first.
Flat Rabbit opened his mouth.
"Save—"
He did not get to finish.
The militia battalion commander leaned in and whispered urgently, "This is Sichuan, not home. Our supplies are thin. We cannot help them yet. We have to wait for the transport convoy."
Flat Rabbit blinked. "Where is the convoy?"
"Still crawling somewhere between here and regret," the commander muttered. "We barely made it ourselves. Lost the road twice. Took three detours. One steam car nearly died climbing a slope that looked innocent from far away. You think the transport team is gliding here on clouds?"
Flat Rabbit: "..."
Silence.
It was not that he did not want to help.
It was that wanting did not produce grain.
In half of Shaanxi, Shanxi, and Henan, Gao Family Village's transport convoys were already running smoothly. Their vehicles rolled confidently along concrete roads like iron buffalo that feared nothing.
But this was Sichuan.
Concrete roads had not yet arrived.
Here, the steam cars relied on their miserable off-road ability and sheer stubbornness. The official roads twisted like snakes with bad tempers. Steep climbs that made engines wheeze. Sudden drops that tested faith. S-curves sharp enough to make drivers question their life choices. Sections so narrow that two goats meeting head-on would need diplomatic negotiations.
The transport convoys had to move together with the engineer corps.
Repair.
Fill.
Reinforce.
Push.
Pray.
Only then could supplies crawl forward a few more li.
Flat Rabbit clenched his fists and forced confidence into his voice.
"Endure a few more days," he told the refugees loudly. "When the convoy arrives, I will make sure you eat properly. Meat if we have it. Rice until you are full."
The crowd stirred.
Hope was a dangerous thing. But it was better than nothing.
High above the Yangtze River Three Gorges, a mass-produced avatar of Dao Xuan Tianzun stood at the mountain's edge, golden robe gleaming in the wind.
Beside him stood Cheng Xu.
"Is Dao Xuan Tianzun admiring the scenery?" Cheng Xu asked softly.
Li Daoxuan did not look at the water.
"I am studying shipping routes."
Cheng Xu's expression sharpened. "Transportation."
"Yes."
Li Daoxuan's voice turned calm and analytical.
"If we cannot solve transportation, we cannot save Sichuan."
His Field of View Expansion had not yet reached Sichuan. He could not directly drop supplies like a benevolent cheat code from the sky. The little people had to move everything with their own hands.
And hands were limited.
Sichuan's terrain was cruel. Steam cars lost half their life climbing a single mountain road. Land transport was slow, fragile, and exhausting.
Water.
Only water would work.
Li Daoxuan gazed at the Yangtze.
As a native of Chongqing, he understood the river's temper.
In both ancient and modern times, ships could reliably reach Chongqing. The true difficulty was the Three Gorges section. Once past that throat of stone and current, the rest of the route was workable.
If they relied on Yangtze shipping, they could support at least half of Sichuan's logistical needs.
But one problem remained.
"How do we get supplies into the Yangtze efficiently?"
If Gao Family Village sent goods down the Yellow River, then cut through the Huai River before entering the Yangtze, it would be absurdly long. A logistical pilgrimage. Grain would rot. Time would bleed away.
Li Daoxuan frowned.
"Is there a shorter path?"
Cheng Xu suddenly snapped his fingers.
"What about the Han River? It has been navigable since ancient times. From Hanzhong Prefecture downstream all the way to Hankou. The entire route is established. We send supplies from Hanzhong by ship to Wuhan, enter the Yangtze there, then sail upstream into Sichuan. It looks like a detour on paper, but it is far faster than dragging steam cars through mountains."
Li Daoxuan's eyes lit up.
"Hanzhong."
The name tugged at memory.
"Which of our people mentioned Hanzhong before?"
Cheng Xu slapped his thigh.
"Zhu Cunji. The heir of the Prince of Qin. He was building the West Han Railway. From Xi'an to Hanzhong Prefecture. I wonder if it's complete."
Li Daoxuan shifted his perspective instantly, glanced back toward Shaanxi, then returned.
He laughed.
"It is already operational."
On a grand train rumbling toward Xi'an, two men in bamboo hats sat side by side.
It made the entire carriage feel like a Jianghu gathering that had mistakenly boarded public transportation.
Zhu Cunji sat straight, looking unbearably pleased with himself.
Beside him, Zhu Yujian stared at everything like a caveman who had just discovered lightning was optional.
"So such a thing exists in this world!" Zhu Yujian exclaimed. "It runs without horses! It devours distance! Incredible! Absolutely incredible!"
Zhu Cunji puffed up.
"Incredible, yes? I own one."
Zhu Yujian's jaw dropped.
"You own one?"
Zhu Cunji raised two fingers.
"I own two."
The carriage felt quieter.
"How did you acquire such divine iron beasts?" Zhu Yujian whispered.
Zhu Cunji rubbed his fingers together in the universal gesture of silver.
"Bought them."
Zhu Yujian: "..."
Of course.
The Prince of Tang's manor was poor enough to argue with candle prices. The Prince of Qin's manor, however, swam in wealth.
Zhu Yujian hesitated. "This must cost tens of thousands of silver taels."
Zhu Cunji burst into laughter.
"Tens of thousands? Even a hundred thousand taels would not cover it. The iron carriages are nothing. The real cost is the tracks. Laying the road beneath them. Iron. Sleepers. Labor. Endless labor."
Zhu Yujian nodded slowly. "That is no small undertaking."
Zhu Cunji leaned back smugly.
"And I have two."
His laughter rolled through the carriage like a man who had finally found a hobby that justified his allowance.
At that very peak of pride, the golden-threaded Dao Xuan Tianzun embroidered on his chest spoke.
"Zhu Cunji."
Zhu Cunji nearly leapt out of his seat.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun!"
He bowed hurriedly.
Zhu Yujian, once terrified of this phenomenon, now considered himself among the faithful. He bowed too, trying to look composed and not like someone greeting a talking embroidery pattern.
Li Daoxuan's voice was calm.
"The militia requires your West Han Railway to transport a batch of supplies."
Zhu Cunji's face lit up like a festival lantern.
"My railway can serve Dao Xuan Tianzun? That is glorious! Please use it freely! If my possessions can aid you, then who dares call me useless? I am the most useful man in the world!"
Zhu Yujian glanced sideways at him.
The most useful man in the world had discovered railways yesterday.
Li Daoxuan's tone hardened slightly.
"It cannot be used for free."
Zhu Cunji blinked. "I would not dare take money from you. That silver would burn my hands."
"You must take it," Li Daoxuan said firmly. "Your West Han Railway is privately owned. It is not like the village-operated West Luo Railway. If the village uses private property without payment, order will collapse in the future."
The carriage fell silent.
"This railway," Li Daoxuan continued, "will be the precedent. From now on, cooperation between village-operated enterprises and private enterprises must involve proper payment. No free use. No favoritism."
He paused.
"Without rules, there is no order."
Zhu Cunji swallowed.
For the first time, the weight of ownership settled on his shoulders.
This was no longer a toy for pride.
It was infrastructure.
And infrastructure, in times like these, was the difference between starvation and survival.