"Uncle Master, you haven't seen Renjia Town in over a year," Awei said proudly as he led Gustave through the bustling streets. "The population has more than doubled, and look how far the town boundaries have expanded! We may still be called a town in name, but in truth, we're as large and prosperous as any major county seat in the province."
Gustave nodded appreciatively as he observed the steady stream of merchants, craftsmen, and families going about their business. The transformation was remarkable—where once there had been a sleepy rural settlement, now stood something approaching a proper commercial center.
"By the way, Awei," Gustave said, his tone becoming more serious, "I heard that Master Ren and the other wealthy families established some sort of militia for protection?"
The moment Gustave mentioned the militia, Awei's demeanor changed completely. The cheerful tour guide vanished, replaced by a cautious security captain who glanced around nervously before grasping Gustave's arm.
"Uncle Master, perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more... private," Awei said quietly, guiding him toward a nearby teahouse.
"Captain Awei!" The teahouse owner rushed forward with a deep bow the moment they entered. "Welcome, welcome! How may this humble establishment serve you?"
"Do you have a private room available?" Awei asked curtly.
"Of course, Captain! Please, follow me immediately!"
They were led to an elegant second-floor room overlooking the main street. Rose petals floated in small bowls of water, and incense burned softly in the corners, creating an atmosphere of refined tranquility.
"Boss," Awei called out, "bring us two pots of your finest Longjing tea and some light refreshments."
"Right away, Captain! Honored guest, please make yourselves comfortable!"
After the proprietor left, Awei carefully checked the door and windows before returning to his seat. Only when he was completely satisfied with their privacy did his tense posture relax.
"Excuse me, but is all this secrecy really necessary?" Gustave asked, amused by Awei's paranoid behavior.
"Uncle Master, please understand—the militia situation is far more significant than most people realize," Awei replied seriously.
The teahouse owner returned with their order, bowing repeatedly before departing and closing the door behind him. Awei waited a full minute before speaking again, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What the common people know about our militia," he began, pouring tea for both of them, "is merely the surface story."
Gustave sipped his tea and waited patiently for the explanation.
"Publicly, yes, we're a local defense force meant to protect against bandits and minor warlords. But the reality, Uncle Master, is quite different." Awei leaned forward conspiratorially. "Our instructors are German military advisors. Our weapons and equipment are imported directly from France. We have three full infantry battalions, one artillery battalion, a complete logistics brigade, a headquarters guard company, a cavalry company, a reconnaissance company, a medical company..."
Gustave's eyebrows rose steadily as the list continued.
"The total strength of our 'militia,'" Awei concluded, "is nearly four thousand men, all organized according to modern military doctrine."
WTF, Gustave thought, setting down his teacup with a sharp clink. The vegetable vendor had mentioned "several thousand" men, but Gustave had assumed that was typical peasant exaggeration. This was no civilian defense force—this was a professional army that could challenge any warlord in the province.
"Where did you find qualified people for such an organization?" Gustave asked. "And artillery? That requires specialized technical training that takes years to master."
Awei smiled grimly. "Shortly after you left last year, Uncle Master, representatives from the neighboring province's Protector General contacted Master Ren. They arranged a secret meeting with Master Ren and Taoist Tiantong, and after they returned..."
The pieces began falling into place. The neighboring province had historically been one of the most militarily advanced regions in China, with strong German ties and French equipment contracts. If Zhang Zhiwei had somehow aligned himself with their Protector General...
"The soldiers," Awei continued, "were carefully selected from good families across more than a dozen surrounding counties. When they enlisted, their entire families were relocated here to Renjia Town. Master Ren's businesses provided employment for the family members, and those who preferred it received farmland instead."
Gustave nodded approvingly. Soldiers with families to protect and stable livelihoods fought with considerably more determination than rootless mercenaries.
"Our officers are all graduates of the neighboring province's Military Academy," Awei said with evident pride. "Our commanding officer, Colonel Lu, not only graduated with honors but served with distinction in the National Defense War. He was personally recommended by the Protector General himself."
The full scope of the situation became clear to Gustave. This wasn't some improvised local militia—it was a professionally trained, well-equipped modern military unit with experienced leadership and strong logistical support. Against the ragtag forces most regional warlords could field, four thousand such troops could easily defeat armies twice or three times their size.
No wonder Zhang Zhiwei and Lin Jiu haven't visited the Bamboo Staff in so long, Gustave mused. They've been building themselves a small kingdom.
"Awei," he said, standing abruptly, "I think I'll skip the gift shopping after all. Are Taoist Tiantong and your master at the charity cemetery now?"
"Yes, Uncle Master. They've been spending most of their time there recently, coordinating with—"
"Excuse me," Gustave interrupted, placing a silver dollar on the table. "This should cover the tea."
Before Awei could protest the overpayment, Gustave's body dissolved into crackling electricity. Thunder boomed through the teahouse as he vanished, leaving only the lingering scent of ozone.
"Uncle Master, you don't need to pay—I was going to cover..." Awei's voice trailed off as he stared at the empty chair. With a resigned sigh, he pocketed the dollar and prepared to explain the mysterious thunderclap to the nervous teahouse owner.
At the charity cemetery, Zhang Zhiwei had been meditating peacefully in the courtyard when thunder suddenly split the clear afternoon sky. His eyes opened immediately, and his weathered face broke into a genuine smile of welcome.
"Gustave!" he called out, rising smoothly to his feet as electricity coalesced into human form. "What a pleasant surprise!"
"Fellow Taoist Tiantong!" Gustave replied warmly, clasping the elderly Taoist's hands in greeting.
"It's been over a year since we've seen you, Brother Gustave," Zhang Zhiwei said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What brings you to our little corner of the world today?"
"If I hadn't come to visit," Gustave said with a wry smile, "I never would have learned about the dramatic changes in Renjia Town. This militia business, for instance—I'm quite curious about Fellow Taoist Tiantong's involvement in local politics."
Zhang Zhiwei's expression grew more serious, though his eyes retained their warmth. He gestured toward a stone table under a flowering tree. "Come, sit. This conversation deserves proper tea."
As they settled themselves, Zhang Zhiwei poured from a clay pot that had been warming in the sun. "You know, Gustave, although this world's history has unfolded differently from our own, the fundamental struggles remain the same. Foreign powers circle like vultures, warlords tear the country apart with their petty conflicts, and supernatural threats prey upon common folk who have no means to defend themselves."
He paused to sip his tea thoughtfully. "I may not have been born in this world, but when I look at the faces of the people here—their hopes, their fears, their simple desire for peace—I see the same humanity I've spent my entire life protecting."
Gustave studied his friend's face carefully. There was something different about Zhang Zhiwei—a renewed sense of purpose that hadn't been there before.
"Our battle against the Fat Doll demon that night," Zhang Zhiwei continued, "drew the attention of the neighboring province's Protector General. He sent emissaries to invite Master Ren and me for a private audience."
"And?" Gustave prompted.
Zhang Zhiwei's eyes grew distant with memory. "That general... he spoke of his vision for China's future. Not the petty territorial ambitions of most warlords, but a genuine desire to unite the country, drive out foreign influence, and establish lasting peace. After extensive discussions and careful investigation, I concluded that his intentions were sincere."
"So you decided to throw your considerable abilities behind his cause," Gustave observed.
"Exactly." Zhang Zhiwei's voice carried absolute conviction. "I may be an old man, Gustave, but I refuse to sit idly by while suffering continues around me. If I have the power to help bring peace to this troubled land, then by heaven, I'll use it!"
Gustave couldn't help but smile at his friend's passionate declaration. "You know, Fellow Taoist, people often say that your world was for passionate old men. Seeing you now, I understand why."
Zhang Zhiwei laughed heartily. "Passionate old men, is it? Well, perhaps passion is what this world needs—someone willing to fight not for personal gain, but for the simple belief that things can be better."
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