The newly appointed Military Inspector, Fang Wushang, took command of the hundred or so soldiers left behind by Cheng Xu and began patrolling the border region between Chengcheng County and Heyang County.
The border between the two counties stretched wide and long, cutting across mountains, villages, and empty wilderness.
Fang Wushang had no way of knowing where the bandits would strike. To compensate, he sent scouts in every direction. He bribed mountain hunters to act as informants. He dispatched men into villages near the border to gather rumors and intelligence.
Beisi Village.
Shijia Ditch.
Bangou Village.
Beipo Village.
Quangou Village.
Lijiahe Village.
His presence was everywhere.
This new inspector worked tirelessly. Calling him a model official would not be an exaggeration.
However, he faced one major disadvantage.
He was an outsider.
He had only recently arrived and was unfamiliar with the geography and local conditions of both counties. Unable to make a confident judgment, he sought advice from Liang Shixian.
"Master Liang," Fang Wushang said respectfully, "you arrived earlier than I did. Based on your understanding, where do you think the bandits are most likely to enter Chengcheng County?"
Liang Shixian himself was still new to the region, but as a scholar, he could not simply admit ignorance.
He closed his eyes and began analyzing.
In his mind, maps of Chengcheng County and Heyang County unfolded clearly. He visualized terrain, roads, villages, and possible marching routes. Every path turned like a rotating lantern in his thoughts.
Then suddenly, the answer emerged.
Quangou Village.
This village lay almost directly between the two county seats. If the bandits wished to travel efficiently, they would take the shortest route.
And the shortest route would inevitably pass through Quangou Village.
Fang Wushang immediately stationed himself there, lodging with the wealthy local families. Several militia groups organized by the local gentry joined his force. Soldiers and militia stood united, waiting for the bandits to appear.
Meanwhile, at Zhengjia Village.
A mountain range ran north to south, forming a natural boundary between Chengcheng County and Heyang County. It resembled the imaginary dividing line students drew across their desks in school, separating territories.
Zhengjia Village stood directly along this boundary.
On a hillside overlooking the dividing line, two salt smugglers, Old Zhu and Old Zhang, sat together with two rookie militia members from Gao Family Village.
They gazed toward the eastern slope.
Three years of drought had not killed every tree, but those that remained looked lifeless and exhausted.
A cold wind swept across the hilltop.
Old Zhu and Old Zhang shivered in their thin clothing, but the two militia rookies remained unaffected.
"You two must be eating well," Old Zhu remarked. "You don't even feel the cold."
One of the rookies grinned.
"That's thanks to Tianzun's blessings. Ever since joining the militia, our meals have improved. Tianzun said that with intense daily training, we need proper nutrition."
Old Zhu frowned.
"What's nutrition?"
The rookie laughed.
"No idea. But it must be something good."
Old Zhu chuckled.
"As long as the food is good, that's all that matters."
The rookie reached into his satchel and pulled out two strips of dried beef jerky, handing them over.
"Here. Tianzun provided these."
The smugglers' eyes lit up with delight.
Dried beef was a rare luxury.
They bit into it eagerly, savoring every chew.
But suddenly, Old Zhu froze.
His expression turned serious.
He quickly stuffed the remaining jerky back into his satchel and whispered,
"They're here."
"The bandits are here."
The rookies immediately followed his gaze.
Below the hillside, a bandit vanguard emerged.
They advanced in a long snake-like formation. Their clothing was tattered, and their weapons were a mismatched collection of farm tools, blades, and makeshift arms.
The rookies' faces turned pale.
"They really came…"
"Why here? Wouldn't it be better if they went to Inspector Fang instead?"
Old Zhu let out a quiet chuckle.
"No surprise. I see someone I recognize."
The rookies stiffened.
"You recognize one of them?"
Old Zhu nodded slightly.
"The one who injured our boss. His name is Er Chun."
He continued quietly,
"We fought him recently near Heyang County. We had only thirty or forty men, but we routed his three hundred bandits. Our boss even wounded him. But that man is vicious. He managed to injure our boss's arm in return."
The rookies swallowed nervously.
"What should we do?"
"We're above them. Should we throw rocks down?"
Old Zhu shook his head.
"Don't be foolish. We are scouts. Our duty is to observe, not fight. We leave combat decisions to the commanders."
He continued calmly,
"We keep three people here to watch them. One person returns to report."
The rookies nodded immediately.
"I'll go," one volunteered.
Old Zhu waved him off.
"You won't learn anything that way. Old Zhang, you go report back. I'll stay and guide these two."
Old Zhang grinned.
"Understood."
He stood and began running toward Gao Family Village at full speed.
Old Zhu remained behind, watching the bandits carefully.
His eyes focused on the leader.
Er Chun.
The man's arm was still wrapped in cloth. His wound had clearly not healed completely.
Meanwhile, in the real world.
Li Daoxuan sat comfortably, holding a bowl of braised beef noodles as he ate while thinking about another matter.
Entertainment.
The villagers needed entertainment.
After some thought, he arrived at a solution.
Illustrated storybooks.
People who grew up in earlier generations would remember them well. These small books relied mainly on pictures, with very little text. Even those who could not read well could understand and enjoy them.
They provided both entertainment and education.
He immediately called his father.
"Dad, I need something."
"What is it?"
"Those illustrated storybooks. The Yang Family Generals set. You still have them, right?"
His father replied proudly,
"Of course. Those are my treasures."
"Good. I'll come get them."
His father warned him,
"You can take them, but handle them carefully. If you damage even one page—"
"I understand," Li Daoxuan said quickly.
After ending the call, he prepared to leave.
But just then, something caught his attention.
A tiny figure appeared on the road inside the sandbox world.
It was one of Xing Honglang's salt smugglers.
A scout.
Li Daoxuan could not remember his name. There were now over a thousand villagers. Only a few stood out clearly in his mind.
But this could only mean one thing.
Li Daoxuan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"The Heyang bandits have arrived."