Wangjia Village, behind the hillside.
Wang Er of Baishui stood before the gathered villagers, his face dark with fury.
Just the night before, he had led a group of desperate men into Gaojia Village to steal water. Instead, they had returned with two full buckets of flour each, an unimaginable fortune that had lifted everyone's spirits. They had walked home with lighter steps, already imagining full stomachs and warm meals.
But the moment they returned, that fragile hope was shattered.
While Wang Er had been away, county bailiffs had raided Wangjia Village under cover of darkness. Several villagers had been beaten and injured. One abandoned thatched hut had been burned to the ground as a warning. And worst of all, the officials had seized the villagers' seed grain.
The seed grain that represented their only chance of survival next season.
Several wounded villagers lay before Wang Er now. Their heads were wrapped in bloodstained cloth that had long since soaked through. Flies buzzed around the wounds. Nobody had the strength to shoo them away.
"Big Brother Wang..." one of them croaked. His voice was barely a whisper. "You have to stand up for us."
Another man, younger, his face still swollen from the beating, pressed his forehead against the dirt.
"My family's seed grain is gone. All of it. Even if the heavens finally send rain, we have nothing to plant." His voice cracked. "We are dead. My wife. My children. All of us. Dead."
A third villager, older, did not even lift his head. He just lay there, face down, shoulders shaking.
"Mine too. My seed grain is gone. There is nothing left." He finally lifted his head. Tears cut lines through the dirt on his face. "Big Brother. You have to do something."
Each word drove deeper into Wang Er's chest. His jaw tightened. His fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms.
"Brothers."
His voice came out rough, barely controlled.
"I brought back flour. Enough for everyone."
He paused. Swallowed.
"We will make dough lumps tonight. We will eat until our stomachs are full."
Then his eyes went hard.
"And then... we rebel."
The crowd gasped.
"Rebel?"
"That is a death sentence! They will kill our entire clans!"
Fear rippled through the men. Some stepped back. Others glanced at each other, searching for someone to say it was a joke.
But Wang Er laughed. A dry, bitter sound that held no warmth.
"Death?"
His voice rose.
"You are afraid of death? Look at them!"
He pointed at the wounded villagers.
"Their seed grain is gone. They will starve no matter what. Their children will starve. Their wives will starve. And you? You think the magistrate will stop here? He will come back. He will take everything. Every grain. Every chicken. Every daughter. And when there is nothing left to take, he will take your lives anyway."
He swept his arm across the crowd.
"Starvation is slow. It eats you from the inside. Beheading is quick. So tell me, which death do you prefer?"
The villagers fell silent.
Because he was right.
Wang Er bent down and picked up a fistful of black soil. Without a word, he smeared it across his own face. The dirt clung to his skin, turning his features dark and strange.
Then he raised his arm.
"Who dares to kill Zhang Yaocai?"
Nobody moved.
Then one man stepped forward. His hands were shaking, but he scooped up dirt and smeared it on his own face.
Another followed.
Then another.
The shaking spread. Men who had been trembling with fear a moment ago were now trembling with something else. Rage. Desperation. The kind of fury that comes when a man has nothing left to lose.
"WE DARE!" they roared together.
Wang Er's mud-covered face twisted into something between a grin and a snarl.
"Good."
His voice dropped, cold and steady.
"Light the fires. Cook the flour. Eat until you cannot eat anymore."
He turned toward the distant county seat.
"Because after tonight, we march to Chengcheng County. And we take Zhang Yaocai's head."
He swept his gaze across the gathered villagers, counting their numbers. Fewer than a hundred men, armed with nothing but farming tools and desperation. It was enough to start a fire, but not enough to ensure victory.
He pointed at two young men.
"You two. Go to Zhongjia Village and Zhengjia Village."
The two stepped forward without hesitation.
"Find Zhong Guangdao and Zheng Yanfu. Tell them Wang Er of Baishui is raising a rebellion. Ask if they have the guts to join."
The two youths nodded, turned, and ran. Within moments, they had disappeared over the hills.
---
Meanwhile, Gao Chuwu and three other young men entered Chengcheng County.
This was their second visit to the county seat, and the difference showed. The first time, they had walked with their heads down, jumping at every passing cart and flinching at every shout from a merchant. Now they moved through the crowd like men who had seen a thing or two. They still asked for directions politely, but they no longer sounded like beggars.
They found former advisor Shan Shi'er's residence without much trouble. Gao Chuwu raised his hand to knock.
The door swung open before his knuckles touched wood.
His hand hung in the air. He pulled it back and scratched his head, grinning at nothing in particular.
Shan Shi'er stood in the doorway. Behind him, the house was in chaos. Servants were running back and forth with bundles. His wife was shouting at someone to grab the silver.
"Hurry, hurry, pack everything you can—"
He stopped when he saw Gao Chuwu.
For a second, he just stared.
Then his eyes narrowed. "You. From Gaojia Village. Gao... something."
"Gao Chuwu."
"Yes, yes." Shan Shi'er's eyes flicked up and down the young man, calculating. "Tianzun sent you."
Gao Chuwu blinked.
He hadn't said a word yet. How did this man already know?
Smart people, he thought. They're different from the rest of us. Grandpa Chief has to shout in my ear for half a day before I understand anything.
He scratched his head again and explained. "Tianzun told us to forge armor. He said bandits are coming. Lots of them. Our blacksmith isn't good enough, so Tianzun wants you to find us some craftsmen."
Shan Shi'er went still.
Armor.
Forging armor privately. That alone was enough to get a man's whole clan killed.
But that wasn't what made his blood run cold.
Bandits are coming.
He understood.
Wang Er was going to rebel.
He had guessed it before, back when he heard about the seed grain. But now Tianzun himself had confirmed it. The god had spoken through this simple village boy, and the message was clear.
Shan Shi'er turned and screamed at his family.
"Leave it! Leave everything that isn't already packed! We're going now!"
His wife ran out of the house carrying their daughter. A maid and a servant followed, stumbling under bundles of gold and silver. His wife looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Where are we going?"
Shan Shi'er grabbed Gao Chuwu by both hands. His grip was tight, desperate.
"Brother Chuwu. Please."
Gao Chuwu looked down at the hands gripping his. Then back up. "What—"
"Take my wife and daughter to Gaojia Village. Ask Tianzun to protect them." His voice cracked. "Once they're safe, I'll have nothing left to lose. I'll serve Tianzun for the rest of my life. I swear it."
Gao Chuwu stared.
He still didn't understand what was happening. Armor, bandits, a grown man crying in his doorway. None of it made sense.
But he understood fear.
He nodded. "Alright."
Soon, the group of eight left the county seat together and began the journey back toward Gaojia Village.
---
They had not even traveled two li when dark figures appeared on the hills northwest of the city.
Hundreds of them. Faces smeared with mud. Moving down the slope like a landslide.
At the front stood Wang Er of Baishui. Beside him were his sworn brothers, Zhong Guangdao and Zheng Yanfu.
Wang Er raised a rusty hoe over his head.
"Zhang Yaocai stole our seed grain! He's left us to die! Are we going to sit here and wait for it?"
The crowd roared back.
"No!"
"Then we take his head!"
"We take his head!"
"Who dares to kill Zhang Yaocai?" Wang Er bellowed.
"I dare!"
"Who dares to kill Zhang Yaocai?"
"I dare!"
"Who dares to kill Zhang Yaocai?"
"WE ALL DARE!"
Wang Er laughed. Not because anything was funny. Because there was nothing else left to do.
"Charge!"
They came down the hill like water breaking through a dam.
Hoes. Clubs. Sickles. Kitchen knives. Shovels. Pitchforks. Whatever a man could grab on his way out the door.
The gates of Chengcheng County were still open.
Nobody had thought to close them.
The great peasant uprising of the Late Ming Dynasty had begun.