A wave of common folk rushed forward, some wringing their hands, some practically hopping in anxiety.
"Brave sirs, you must run!" one of them cried. "At a time like this you're still calmly moving goods?"
Zhuge Wangchan laughed softly, as if the suggestion were absurd.
"Run?" he said. "And leave the supplies behind? These are disaster relief provisions. They must reach the people of Sichuan. How could we abandon them and flee for our own safety?"
The villagers looked at one another in disbelief.
"But Prince Rui's guards will return soon! The Prefect will come! The Regional Commander too!"
Zhuge Wangchan shrugged lightly. "Let them come. Who is afraid of whom?"
The words were spoken without bravado. That made them even more unsettling.
Some of the more timid onlookers retreated immediately, unwilling to be swept into trouble. Others hesitated. And then there were those who knew. Those who had heard of Dao Xuan Tianzun. Those who understood who stood behind Gao Family Village.
They stepped forward.
"Quickly, help them unload!"
It did not take long for the train to be emptied. Basket after basket of grain and bolts of cloth were stacked neatly at the station, forming a small mountain of relief supplies.
Soon after, a convoy of carts and horses arrived in orderly lines. The quartermasters began loading the grain, directing traffic efficiently, sending cart after cart toward the Han River.
On the riverbank, small boats were already prepared, rocking gently as if impatient to depart.
Despite the visible urgency in the air, the logistics team worked at their usual pace. Calm. Measured. Disciplined.
The common folk grew increasingly anxious.
"Hurry! Hurry!"
Some rushed to push carts, others lifted sacks, trying to accelerate the process. But reality was stubborn. A single large train could carry hundreds of thousands, even close to a million jin of supplies. Moving that much grain required trip after trip.
Speed had limits.
Then came the clatter of armored footsteps.
Prince Rui's guards had arrived.
Two hundred of them.
Even the Prince of Qin's Mansion, the premier enfeoffment of the realm, maintained only five hundred guards. Prince Rui, lower in rank and famously frugal, found supporting five hundred far too expensive. Two hundred was far more economical.
When those two hundred guards saw the scene, they hesitated.
Before them stood five hundred militia quartermasters, broad-shouldered and steady-eyed, men accustomed to carrying heavy loads and heavier responsibilities. Muscles gleamed under sleeves rolled high.
The guards swallowed.
Prince Rui, red-faced with indignation, stomped forward. "What are you staring at? Charge! Arrest them!"
The Guard Commander shifted uneasily. "Your Highness… they outnumber us."
"You are proper imperial soldiers!" Prince Rui snapped. "They are merely a local militia. What are you afraid of?"
The Guard Commander lowered his head, but inwardly he could not help thinking, If we are proper imperial soldiers, perhaps we should receive proper pay. Perhaps more meat in our rations. Perhaps less stinginess.
He dared not voice such thoughts.
"We must wait for reinforcements," he said carefully. "The Prefect and the Regional Commander are on their way."
Thus, in a rather embarrassing display, two hundred imperial guards drifted backward and blended into the crowd, choosing observation over confrontation.
The standoff stretched awkwardly.
Then the ground began to tremble faintly with approaching steps.
The Hanzhong Prefect and the Hanzhong Regional Commander had arrived.
The Prefect was an ordinary official, cautious and pragmatic. The Regional Commander, however, was not ordinary at all.
Zhao Guangyuan.
Son of the renowned General Zhao Shuaijiao, the man known as the General Who Pacified Liao. A name spoken with respect across the frontier.
When Zhao Guangyuan rode in, Prince Rui immediately regained his confidence.
"General Zhao!" he shouted. "Arrest these scoundrels at once!"
Zhao Guangyuan did not move.
He surveyed the scene calmly. Grain. Carts. Boats. Militia working methodically.
"What exactly is happening here?" he asked.
"They are rebelling!" Prince Rui declared.
"Rebelling?" Zhao Guangyuan lifted a brow. "All I see are men moving supplies."
"They assaulted my men!"
Zhao Guangyuan's tone remained steady. "Any fatalities?"
"No."
The difference between assault and rebellion was enormous.
Zhao Guangyuan very much wanted to say so aloud, but he restrained himself.
At that moment, the Hanzhong Prefect leaned closer and whispered in his ear.
"We cannot touch them."
Zhao Guangyuan's eyes shifted slightly. "Explain."
The Prefect spoke in a low voice. "Across Guanzhong, crop yields have tripled because of Celestial Fertilizer. You know this. These people belong to a faction known as the Dao Xuan Tianzun Daoist Sect. Backed by the powerful Li clan of Longxi. Even the Prince of Qin's Mansion and the Shaanxi Governor have ties to them."
Zhao Guangyuan's expression hardened.
The Prefect continued, "Observe them. They have offended Prince Rui and yet continue calmly moving supplies, utterly fearless. Why? Because they know who stands behind them. If Prince Rui clashes with the Prince of Qin, who loses?"
Zhao Guangyuan understood.
"If they truly have that backing," he murmured, "why not simply say so?"
The Prefect's voice dropped further. "Because some things cannot be spoken aloud. If such a connection were openly acknowledged, how would it differ from rebellion? Look at what happened to Prince of Tang Zhu Yujian. Some truths are safer left unspoken."
Silence passed between them.
Then Zhao Guangyuan straightened in the saddle and raised his voice.
"This general has carefully observed the situation. These are good citizens, diligently transporting relief supplies. There is no rebellion here."
He turned slightly toward Prince Rui. "Your Highness, please refrain from making such grave accusations lightly. Mobilizing imperial troops so hastily is taxing on the soldiers."
Prince Rui blinked in disbelief. "What?"
Zhao Guangyuan gave a brief nod. "Return."
He turned his horse and rode away.
The garrison followed immediately, vanishing as swiftly as they had arrived.
The Hanzhong Prefect bowed respectfully. "Your Highness Prince Rui, please be cautious in the future and avoid disturbing the common people."
Then he too departed with his retinue.
In the blink of an eye, the field was cleared.
Prince Rui stood there, utterly dumbfounded.
Then something worse happened.
Zhuge Wangchan watched the officials leave and understood everything.
He chuckled.
Then he cracked his knuckles.
"Brothers," he called lazily, "after carrying so much grain, are your arms stiff? How about we stretch them a bit?"
The quartermasters grinned in unison.
"Alright!"
They advanced together.
Five hundred men.
Two hundred guards.
Prince Rui stumbled backward. "What are you doing? Do not come closer!"
"Beat them!"
"Charge!"
The militia surged forward like a tide finally allowed to break.
Prince Rui's guards collapsed instantly into chaos, discipline dissolving under the sudden wave of fists and boots.
In the confusion, an unidentified flying kick struck Prince Rui squarely in the backside.
He yelped.
Then pitched forward.
He hit the ground heavily and slid across the stone floor for more than a meter, robes twisted, dignity scattered somewhere behind him.