Night had already begun to settle when Li Daoxuan returned from his parents' home.
He had originally planned to grab the stack of comic-style picture books and sprint back, but once his parents heard he was coming, they had already prepared a banquet—something thirty-two levels above his usual takeout. It was so extravagant it nearly qualified as a New Year's Eve feast.
Dinner was great. The time delay… less great.
By the time he staggered home carrying a bulging bag of "Yang Clan Generals" picture books, the sun was already sliding behind the western ridge.
He rushed to lay everything out, carefully flipped open the book, placed each page on the scanner, scanned it, shrank it on the printer, and printed each page into a tiny sheet…
Of course, even his so-called "tiny sheet" was enormous to the Little Folk. They couldn't use it directly—it still had to be re-typeset and printed using their miniature engraving techniques.
The scanner and printer clattered loudly.
Li Daoxuan casually shifted his divine sight to observe the world of the Little Folk below.
Zhengjia Village's disaster zone had been completely cleaned up. The Heyang bandits wouldn't dare return anytime soon. Fang Wushang had withdrawn the troops and was now busy writing his victory memorial—though, unlike Cheng Xu, he probably wouldn't turn it into some delusional brag-fest.
The militia had returned home, all grinning ear to ear.
Xing Honglang was in an excellent mood. A bandit of her temperament—fast blade, fast vengeance—had finally killed "Er-Chun" and avenged herself. She had her people bring over a jar of commercial-grade Wuliangye, shared among dozens of salt smugglers.
One sip.
All of them fell flat.
Not a single man remained standing.
Modern liquor was simply too strong — practically a medicinal knockout pill to them.
That was when Gao Chuwu arrived. He'd been hoping to talk to Xing Honglang, but instead stepped into a plastic fortress filled with bodies sprawled everywhere like fallen wheat.
With no other choice, Gao Chuwu quietly picked them up one by one and carried them to their rooms, even covering them with blankets. Late spring was still chilly — pneumonia wasn't a joke.
Only Xing Honglang remained untouched in the main hall. She was a girl, after all; he didn't dare lay a hand on her. So she remained snoring in solitary splendor in the middle of the room.
Elsewhere, Cheng Xu sat alone atop the high watchtower, mask lifted, drinking from a small jar.
He had won, yet showed no joy.
Perhaps he still missed his identity as a proper, official Ninth-Rank military officer of the court.
Li Daoxuan watched all this and couldn't help but chuckle.
Behind him, the printer jolted to a stop — Volume One of the Yang Clan Generals was complete.
He shifted his gaze toward the watching platform.
Gao Yiye was still weaving under lamplight. The cotton threads crossed over each other on his loom, becoming fresh cloth sliding off the frame.
"Yiye," Li Daoxuan called gently.
Gao Yiye jolted upright. "Ah! Tianzun!"
Li Daoxuan smiled. "Go find Shansier. I need to talk to him."
Yiye immediately scampered down the tower, his footsteps going pat-pat-pat. He hurried to the Assembly Hall near the main well — Shansier's residence.
He knocked, summoned Shansier, and both men stood respectfully in the courtyard, awaiting the decree.
Li Daoxuan lowered a sheet of paper.
Shansier blinked as a sheet larger than a person drifted down from the heavens, displaying a strange illustration — a warrior drawn in some mysterious style.
Li Daoxuan said nothing, simply lowered page after page.
By the fourth or fifth page, Shansier finally understood.
"Yang Clan Generals! A fully illustrated story!"
Li Daoxuan nodded. "At dawn, gather your best engravers and have them carve printing blocks for these."
Shansier hesitated—then understood the deeper intent.
"Tianzun wishes to use fully illustrated books to teach those who cannot read."
"Exactly," Li Daoxuan said. "Many are too old to attend Wang Xiansheng's lessons, but they still need knowledge. Illustrated books can educate while entertaining."
Shansier bowed. "Tianzun is merciful, even considering the needs of the lowest common folk."
But it wasn't just mercy.
Li Daoxuan didn't mention the deeper layer…
Common people of the past rarely possessed concepts like "nation" or "people." Many didn't even understand the idea of patriotism. This wasn't unique to the Ming era — even in modern times, Lu Xun wrote "The Medicine" to criticize such numbness.
And why numbness?
Lack of patriotic education, plain and simple.
When the Manchu armies flooded in, how many stood up to defend their homeland? Had the masses not been so apathetic, how could the Manchus have taken the realm so easily?
But the Yang Clan Generals — now that was perfect patriotic education material.
Let the common folk witness loyalty, sacrifice, and the spilling of blood to defend their land.
Shansier saluted deeply. "I obey Tianzun's command."
Gao Yiye watched Tianzun's figure dissolve into the sky.
"Heh…" Yiye grinned. "This picture-story book is so fun! I was completely absorbed!"
Shansier raised an eyebrow.
So the Holy Maiden had never read the Yang Clan Generals?
Well… fair. Gao Village was remote; villagers mostly knew only fragmented tales from old storytellers.
"No doubt this book will be very popular," Shansier said. "Once printed, we should not distribute it for free."
Yiye blinked. "Huh? Why not?"
Shansier's tone sharpened with unexpected cunning.
"Tianzun has given out too much food. Many villagers are lying flat, doing nothing. If we sell the books, we can reclaim some of their excess coin and use it to pay the engravers — who will then work with more enthusiasm. And once villagers run out of savings, they'll have motivation to work again."
Yiye stared. "Wow… Shansier, you're so bad."
"How could this possibly be called 'being bad'?" Shansier retorted. "Free distribution is not normal. Tianzun gives free grain because the drought makes it impossible for villagers to grow their own. If people grow accustomed to free goods, they'll think charging money is 'evil'. That's the real problem."
Yiye thought about it…
"Ah! That actually makes sense."
Shansier continued, "If they were starving, I would never think of such a trick. But right now? The villagers in the fortress have grown lazy. Many still have ten large rice grains stored — enough to last years. Why would they bother working? The day will come when even the migrant workers from Duangong Village look down on them."
Yiye nodded solemnly.
"Shansier, you really do make a lot of sense…"
Footnotes
Picture-story books: Illustrated booklets historically popular in many Asian regions, often used to convey moral lessons or heroic tales.
Wuliangye: A modern high-proof liquor. For ancient folk with low tolerance, it functions roughly like a magical sedative.
Engraving blocks: Pre-modern printing relied on hand-carved woodblocks; creating a full illustrated book was a major craft effort.
Villager welfare tension: Many pre-modern communities struggled to balance relief aid with maintaining work motivation — a very old economic problem.