Xing Honglang and her crew departed Gaojia Village heading east. They crossed Heyang County, slipped onto a private ferry to sneak across the Yellow River, entered Shanxi, and continued eastward until they reached Pingyang Prefecture.
Pingyang—modern Linfen—was a region of six subordinate states and twenty-eight counties. East toward Shangdang, west against the Yellow River, south connecting to Bian and Luo, and north blocked by Jinyang.
In other words: a perpetual battlefield.
A place where every dynasty's mapmakers sighed, "Again? Already?"
Though not as bustling as Xi'an Prefecture, Pingyang was still thriving, packed with merchants, caravans, and opportunities for selling goods.
Perfect for Xing Honglang.
She immediately unloaded her stock—high-quality goods sourced from Gaojia Village—and sold with the enthusiasm of a bandit discovering a jewelry cart with no guards. Before long, everything was gone. Her purse bulged with gold, silver, and copper.
Time to restock.
She gathered her thirty-odd private salt smugglers and took the same route back: out of Pingyang, toward the river, planning to cross back into Shaanxi and ultimately to Gaojia Village.
But as they passed a small mountain village, a group of terrified villagers sprinted toward them.
"Run! Bandits! Lots of them! Run for your lives!"
The villagers scattered into their houses, slamming doors. Within seconds the street was empty—
Except for Xing Honglang and her three or four dozen fairly conspicuous smugglers.
Xing Honglang sighed.
"Perfect. We look like walking treasure chests."
Before she even finished, a roaring tide of several hundred bandits surged out from the mountain path. Their clothes were mismatched, ragged—clearly the kind of rebels who formed yesterday and looted today.
Their leader, a massive brute with a face like a pig slaughterhouse's floor, spotted her immediately.
A woman on horseback, flanked by dozens of decently equipped men—wealth radiating off her like perfume.
The brute grinned.
"Brothers! Get 'em! Jackpot!"
Xing Honglang spit out, "Your mother's—! You dare rob me?"
One of her men nervously whispered, "Boss… wrong usage… you're not— uhm—"
She glared. He shut up.
The smugglers drew their waist-knives in a chorus of steel.
Xing Honglang swung hers out too, laughing wildly:
"I've traveled half the damn world and never met a gang that charges without even talking first! These days the greenwood has no heroes—just packs of uncultured bandits! Brothers, attack!"
The smugglers roared and clashed with the rebels.
The fight was loud, chaotic, and extremely one-sided. These rebels were the type who'd pick up a stick in the morning and declare themselves warlords by noon. Against seasoned salt smugglers? They crumbled fast.
Within moments, the rebels scattered in panic.
"Tch. Trash." Xing Honglang sneered at their retreating backs—then suddenly noticed her right sleeve soaked red, blood dripping down her fingers.
"…Huh? I'm injured? When did that happen?"
Chongzhen Year 1, Mid-January
Gaojia Village's population had exploded again.
More and more refugees were arriving in hopes of simply surviving.
County Magistrate Liang Shixian naturally knew about this—but he didn't interfere.
When Dao Xuan Tianzun promised food relief, Shansier and Liang's adviser had discussed the matter in detail. They had planned multiple porridge stations across the county, one of which was to be located in Gaojia Village.
Liang was desperate to save the populace. He welcomed any help.
So when rumors spread throughout the county seat that "Old Master Li's porridge in Gaojia Village feeds you full, unlike the city soup which only keeps you barely alive," Liang Shixian didn't get angry. He was relieved.
For months he had struggled to handle wave after wave of refugees. If they voluntarily went to Gaojia Village to eat, that was less pressure on him.
Why complain?
Naturally, Gaojia Village ballooned in size.
Especially the Short-Worker Village—its population skyrocketed.
Li Daoxuan kept placing down those plastic mini-houses. When the southwest bamboo grove ran out of space, he moved to the roadside on the southwest highway. That area filled up too.
Before long, "satellite villages" sprouted all around the Gao Fortress like mushrooms after rain.
The original forty-two little villagers had become a bustling town of more than a thousand.
As Li Daoxuan's domain expanded, more villages began appearing on his invisible HUD: Zhongjia Village, Zhangjia Village, Lijia Village—names he barely recognized. Even Zong Guangdao's uprising base, Zongjia Village, appeared as part of the landscape.
But with more people came the eternal problem:
Jobs.
Li Daoxuan didn't have enough work for so many.
After thinking it over, he decided:
"Roads! Put all extra labor on road building!"
From Gaojia Village outward, cement roads stretched to every surrounding settlement. The road to Zhengjia Village was old news; the one to Wangjia Village was nearly complete; more roads were being built simultaneously toward Zongjia, Zhangjia, Lijia, and others.
Within ten li of Gaojia Village, the land had transformed into a construction zone—hot, noisy, and full of swinging shovels.
Li Daoxuan finally understood why the road under his apartment building back in the real world was always under construction.
Migrant workers need work.
Cement usage skyrocketed. He couldn't keep stealing from the big construction site, so he dipped into his own wallet and bought a huge bag of cement. Sand he didn't worry about—his villagers could dig river sand themselves.
If the villagers could do something themselves, he let them.
It solved labor and unemployment in one stroke.
But as the domain expanded, more areas fell outside his vision. He kept his perspective locked on the Gao Fortress most of the time, switching only briefly to rain on farmland or inspect other villages.
Anything happening outside his view, well… even gods have blind spots.
He was just a mortal with divine gadgets.
That made the militia even more important.
Cheng Xu's militia now exceeded a hundred members. The sixty new recruits were all from the Short-Worker Village.
Once trusted, young men were selected by Cheng Xu. Those who joined the militia no longer needed day labor. They were well-fed, well-paid… and extremely exhausted.
Because training was brutal.
And after training, they had to attend the Saintess's lectures—
Endlessly reciting:
"You are children of the common folk; you must never take a needle or thread from the common folk."
One hundred repetitions.
Every. Single. Day.
Footnotes
Pingyang's geography — Historically accurate: a crossroads of armies and misfortune.
Rebel militias — Late Ming peasant uprisings often consisted of disorganized villagers with sticks, not professional forces.
Road building as employment — A timeless public works strategy. Dynasties rise and fall, but construction noise is eternal.
Militia moral lessons — Very much in line with Ming-era Confucian ethics, though the repetition requirement here is comedic exaggeration.
Population boom — Gaojia Village is now evolving into a proto-town under the Dao Xuan Tianzun welfare-industrial complex.