Bai Yan thanked Dao Xuan Tianzun with heartfelt sincerity, hugged that mountain-sized stack of "heavenly textbooks," and practically skipped his way back to Bai Fortress. The man was so giddy he forgot to greet his wife and kids before leaving—his head was completely stuffed with the "Six Arts of a Gentleman," especially the one he had just awakened to: numbers.
Good thing this was ancient times. Women had low social standing, so Madam Bai wouldn't flip the family table over this.
If he pulled that in the modern day, he'd be kneeling on a washboard till his knees evolved new calluses.
Dao Xuan Tianzun watched him leave with the warmth of a teacher watching a clueless but motivated student take home several kilos of educational doom.
Excellent. The textbooks I mass-produced will spread through people like him—branching, taking root, and one day… bearing very nerdy fruit.
Just when he was basking in that self-satisfaction, he suddenly heard a racket coming from the southwest edge of the bamboo grove. He immediately shifted his attention there.
The southwest bamboo grove was where the short-worker village lay. Dao Xuan Tianzun had set up dozens of little plastic huts along a rocky embankment, forming a tiny, independent settlement. It looked like a low-budget ancient version of a refugee camp, but with better ventilation.
A large crowd of short-term laborers was gathered by the bamboo, all shouting about something.
Dao Xuan Tianzun zoomed in.
In the middle of the human circle lay a man, forehead bleeding, knocked out cold. Looked like someone had cracked his head open.
"That's Shitou Si! What happened to him?"
"No idea. I was gonna cut some bamboo for weaving a basket, but found him lying here bleeding."
"Quick! Call a doctor!"
"We're poor short-workers—where are we supposed to get a doctor?"
Panic spread like wildfire.
Then the unconscious Shitou Si suddenly woke up, groaned an "aiya," held his head, and croaked, "Damn it… someone robbed me!"
Everyone exhaled in relief—conscious meant not dead.
Shitou Si looked grumpy enough to chew bamboo:
"This morning, I carried a bag of flour and a piece of meat. Planned to visit a blacksmith inside the fortress with a New Year's gift—pay respects, maybe get accepted as an apprentice."
Every short-worker understood instantly.
New Year's Day plus presents equals: impress the master → learn two skills → become a craftsman → watch wages soar.
Shitou Si really had a functioning brain. Why didn't they think of that?
"Didn't expect," he continued, "that just after I stepped out, someone dragged me into the bamboo. Four or five bastards with sticks told me to hand over the flour and meat. I refused. They whacked me and ran off!"
The workers all paled.
"More bandits again?!"
"No way… Chengcheng County just got its bandit problem under control!"
"Heavens above… I don't want to get dragged into another fight…"
Chaos. Pure chaos.
Dao Xuan Tianzun frowned and opened the surveillance app. He pulled all footage from midnight to now.
The bamboo grove was at the edge of the camera range—he could see vague silhouettes moving but no details.
One worker tried reasoning:
"We should report this to the Third Steward. Let the militia handle it!"
Another shook his head:
"Report? We're outsiders—short-term workers. You think the militia cares about us?"
"…That's… sadly true…"
Their voices grew small.
Dao Xuan Tianzun felt a bit of pity for these "wild NPCs."
Traveling far from home just to earn food, placing themselves as low as possible, terrified of making trouble… even when mugged, they didn't dare report it.
That level of insecurity was honestly depressing.
He was just about to summon Yiye—"Yiye! Hey, Yiye!"—to handle this, when suddenly someone dramatically burst out of the crowd.
A shabby man with a rusty sword on his waist: the same fellow who tried stealing Gao Chuwu's punches earlier.
The one and only Flat-Rabbit.
Of course Flat-Rabbit would step up—he considered himself a wandering hero. No way he'd miss a moment like this.
He leaped into the center, puffed up like a rooster:
"Brothers! Don't panic! Who cares whether the fortress will help us? The question is—can't we help ourselves?!"
People blinked. "…And you are…?"
The man proudly declared:
"I'm called Flat-Rabbit! I'm new here too—but I'm not like you lot. When trouble comes, I never chicken out."
Everyone: "..."
He continued loudly:
"Can't you see? Those aren't soldiers or real bandits—just a bunch of stupid little thieves! What's there to be afraid of?!"
The workers murmured uncertainly.
"Silence!" Flat-Rabbit roared. "You there—grab sticks. You too! All of you, follow me! We're getting Shitou Si's stuff back and teaching those thieves a lesson! Otherwise they rob him today, they'll rob Zhang Laowu tomorrow. You want to live like that?!"
That logic actually landed.
Left unchecked, anyone could be dragged into the bamboo and smacked on the head next.
Within minutes the men armed themselves—over a dozen with sticks—while Flat-Rabbit swaggered like a general.
Someone asked,
"Rabbit-ya, do you even know where the thieves went?"
Being called "Rabbit-ya" boosted his ego tenfold. He stroked his nonexistent beard.
"With my vast jianghu experience, I need only glance at footprints to know where they—"
"Rabbit-ya, there are no footprints. It's all stone here."
Flat-Rabbit: "..."
A perfect portrait of awkwardness.
Dao Xuan Tianzun nearly burst out laughing.
Alright then. Let me help you children a bit.
He tapped the "West" and "South" buttons on the control panel, rapidly shifting the view like someone frantically searching for a Zergling on a StarCraft map with fog of war removed.
Soon enough—found them.
Five scruffy men huddled behind a small hill, gathering firewood. Looked like they were about to roast the meat they stole from Shitou Si.
Dao Xuan Tianzun moved the camera back over the bamboo grove, reached into the Box, and carved a giant arrow onto the ground right in front of the workers.
Just as Flat-Rabbit was despairing about the lack of footprints, the earth suddenly rumbled—stones flipping aside by invisible force—revealing an enormous arrow pointing toward the hill.
The veteran workers cheered instantly:
"Dao Xuan Tianzun is guiding us!"
Only Flat-Rabbit stood there dumbfounded:
"Eh?? Eh?? Did… the Heavenly Venerable just manifest…?"
Footnotes
Short-workers – Migrant laborers who moved between villages for seasonal work. They often had little protection and avoided trouble for fear of losing employment.
New Year's gifts to craftsmen – Apprenticeship in many dynasties required presents during major holidays. A master's mood could decide your future career path.
Militia (mintuan) – Local self-defense groups run by villages or forts, mostly serving locals rather than outsiders. Migrant workers had very limited rights.
Dao Xuan Tianzun's "arrow miracle" – In actual folk belief, villagers often interpreted any unexplained natural or artificial sign as divine guidance—especially in panic situations.