At this time, the Governor of Huguang was none other than Lu Xiangheng.
His position was not a simple one. He was both Governor of Huguang and Supreme Commander of Five Provinces, tasked with suppressing the roaming bandits that had turned half the empire into a chessboard of smoke and blood. Under normal circumstances, the Governor of Huguang would remain stationed in Wuchang, anchoring the region like a nail hammered into wood.
But Lu Xiangheng was no nail.
He was perpetually in motion, marching across mountains and plains, dragging his troops wherever the bandits flared up.
Not long ago, he had led his army north to the capital to defend the Emperor. Had he remained in Huguang, the roving bandits would never have come this close to Wuchang. They would likely still be pinned in the Dabie Mountains, harried and besieged.
Instead, with his departure, the Central Plains sagged under sudden weakness.
Wuchang, a city of immense strategic value where the Han River met the Yangtze, was left with almost no real defenders. A handful of undertrained garrison troops. A few hundred of the Prince of Chu's personal guards. Local militias. Ordinary citizens clutching spears they barely knew how to hold.
Such forces might defend tall walls.
They could not fight in open fields.
They did not even dare defend a county town beyond the shadow of Wuchang's gates.
On the city wall, Prince of Chu Zhu Huakui scowled deeply.
"That Huguang Governor is useless," he grumbled. "Bandits are at Wuchang's gates, and he is nowhere to be found."
The Wuchang Prefect, standing beside him, maintained a respectful tone.
"Lord Lu is no coward, Your Highness. But he cannot be in two places at once."
Zhu Huakui turned sharply, eyes flashing with anger.
How dare this minor official contradict him?
He glared with open menace. The Prefect immediately pressed his lips shut. He valued his life and had no desire to test the Prince's temper against his own bones.
At that moment, a scout rushed up the stairs of the wall, breathless.
"A massive fleet is sailing down the Han River! They are accompanied by a great throng of refugees!"
Had the report mentioned only the fleet, Zhu Huakui might have asked questions.
But refugees?
He dismissed it at once.
"Refugees coming to Wuchang?"
"Yes, Your Highness. The bandits are ravaging the countryside. Villagers from all directions are bringing their families and heading here."
The Prefect seized the moment. "Open the gates. Let them in."
"Absolutely not!" Zhu Huakui snapped without hesitation. "Bandit spies will certainly be among them. Once inside, they could open the gates at night. Was that not how Wang Jiayin broke Hequ County years ago?"
The Prefect pressed on despite the danger. "Even if a few spies are mixed among them, we can monitor the refugees. Increase patrols. Guard the gates more closely. But to leave tens of thousands to be slaughtered for fear of a handful of infiltrators… how can we justify that?"
Zhu Huakui sneered.
"Womanly sentimentality. What do their lives matter to this prince? Why should I take such a risk for a pack of worthless wretches?"
Silence fell.
The militias on the wall stared straight ahead. The village guards pretended sudden fascination with their own boots.
The air grew heavy.
The Prefect opened his mouth again, but Zhu Huakui cut him off sharply.
"Guards. Seize this Prefect."
The Prince's personal guards moved immediately.
Two officers grabbed the Prefect and dragged him toward the edge of the wall. Without ceremony, they shoved him down the steps. One even added a kick to his backside, sending him tumbling several times before attendants rushed to lift him and brush dust from his robes.
No one spoke.
But anger simmered like coals beneath ash.
Other princes across the realm were often useless, indulgent, soft-handed men who wasted silver and recited poetry poorly. They were parasites, perhaps, but rarely lethal.
Zhu Huakui was different.
He was dangerous.
He had once dared to have a Huguang Governor beaten to death and had suffered no consequences. Power had not restrained him; it had emboldened him.
After that display, no one dared speak further.
The gates of Wuchang were sealed tight.
The Prince's guards stood above them, eyes cold.
Outside the city, Zhuge Wangchan, Zhu Cunji, and Zhu Yujian arrived with the fleet and the sea of refugees that followed like a tide of despair.
Wuchang was not enormous in size, spanning only a few li, but its position was extraordinary. It commanded the meeting of the Han River and the Yangtze, a strategic throat of the waterways. Easy to defend. Difficult to conquer.
The Gao Family Village fleet had no need to enter the city. It could simply pass by. Ordinarily, the imperial River Patrol navy would be stationed here to regulate traffic, but now that navy had withdrawn into the city, unwilling to risk engagement.
The river lay open before them.
Their intention had been simple: escort the refugees safely inside, then continue downstream calmly.
Instead, they found the gates barred.
From the wall above, guards shouted down at the refugees.
"Leave at once! Wuchang will not open its gates! Go elsewhere!"
The refugees wept openly.
"Sirs, we have nowhere to go! The bandits are everywhere. They burn the fields, they kill in the hills. Even the mountains are not safe!"
"Enough!" the guards shouted back. "Leave now, or we will loose arrows!"
On the wall, bows were drawn.
Cannons were even turned toward the crowd. Though unloaded and meant only for intimidation, the gesture alone was cruel.
Wailing filled the air.
A few braver souls stepped forward cautiously, gambling that the guards would not truly fire on their own people.
They advanced a few steps.
No arrows flew.
Encouraged, they moved closer.
Then Zhu Huakui's voice exploded from above.
"Why are you not shooting?"
The guards hesitated.
"But… they are our people."
Zhu Huakui snatched a bow and attempted to draw it. His sixty-five-year-old body, softened by years of indulgence, failed him. His arms trembled.
Irritated, he grabbed a crossbow from a nearby guard, aimed at the foremost civilian, and pulled the trigger.
Thwack.
The bolt struck.
A civilian collapsed.
The crowd erupted in screams. People dragged the wounded man back, scrambling away in terror.
On the riverbank, the eyes of the Gao Family Village logistics soldiers burned red.
Zhu Cunji's face twisted in fury. "Damn it. That Prince of Chu is a monster."
Zhu Yujian stared at the wall, stunned. "Are there truly princes like this? Does he not consider these people his own subjects?"
At that moment, a presence stirred.
On the deck of the ship, the Heavenly Lord, who had remained seated in stillness for days, suddenly opened his eyes.
"This man deserves to die."
Every member of Gao Family Village dropped to their knees at once.
"Greetings, Dao Xuan Tianzun."
Li Daoxuan's voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made even the river seem to pause.
"Send someone to call back the civilians. Gather them at a place distant from the city walls. The logistics team will remain here tonight to ensure their safety. Tonight, I shall personally intervene and deal with the Prince of Chu. The gates will be opened for the common folk."
A ripple of shock passed through the kneeling men.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun will personally intervene?"
In their minds, they saw it already: a colossal hand descending from the heavens, flattening the city wall and the prince alike.
Li Daoxuan spoke again.
"My true body is traveling across the four seas and cannot be bothered to return. I will use an avatar."
An avatar.
The mass-produced Heavenly Lord models.
Everyone from Gao Family Village knew how terrifying those were in action.
If Dao Xuan Tianzun was intervening, then this matter was already decided.
A boat was dispatched to the shore.
"Everyone, come back!" the soldiers called to the sobbing refugees. "We will find a safe place upstream to rest tonight. Do not fear. We will protect you."
With no other choice, the refugees followed.
They withdrew upstream to a stretch of open riverbank far from the city walls. There, under the cold sky, tens of thousands gathered together, huddling for warmth and clinging to the grain they had been given.
Around them, the Gao Family Village logistics team formed a perimeter.
Firearms ready.
Supplies distributed.
Eyes sharp in the dark.
And somewhere above, unseen by ordinary mortals, judgment was preparing to descend.