Ma Tianzheng set out, heading toward Gaojia Village.
As a wandering Daoist, roaming the land had already become second nature. A thirty-li walk meant nothing to him; if he wanted to go, he simply went.
But today he walked with a purpose: to see with his own eyes whether this so-called Dao Xuan Tianzun would truly manifest in the mortal world.
Probably not.
His shifu had told him stories since childhood — Yuan Shi Tianzun, the Supreme Elder Lord, all those high immortals who made the sky tremble and the stars weep. He'd heard their tales so many times he could recite them in his sleep… but he'd never once witnessed any of them appear.
And now, suddenly, a Tianzun nobody had ever heard of — not in classics, not in commentaries, not even in those cheap traveling-merchant prints — was supposed to manifest?
Impossible.
Definitely impossible.
Someone must be scamming him.
Lost in thought, he eventually realized the sky had already gone dark.
He'd left the county town at dusk, too busy overthinking to notice. After a few li, the world was already too black to walk safely.
He looked for a house to borrow for the night, but every village he passed was deserted — utterly empty.
Of course. With three years of drought, everyone near the county had run off to the city to get relief grain. Who would stay behind in a dying village?
Ma Tianzheng frowned. If the villages near the county were ruined, then a village thirty li away must be even worse.
By the time he arrived, forget people — he probably wouldn't even find a ghost.
And they expect him to see a divine manifestation in a place that barren?
A lie. It had to be a lie.
He found a dead tree, laid down beneath it, ate half a dry biscuit, and fell asleep clothed, unbothered by the possibility of wild beasts. After three years of drought, even the beasts had starved away.
Before dawn, he got up again and continued northeast.
The sun eventually rose — a winter sun, bright but cold — stabbing at his eyes.
Then he saw it: a strange, gray road running parallel to the official highway.
He hurried forward, stepping onto the odd road. It was hard — impossibly hard — as if made from a single stone slab cut perfectly smooth.
He froze.
Who could possibly carve entire mountains into flat sheets like this?
Could this be… the work of ghosts and gods?
His imagination betrayed him. A mental image popped up: Yuan Shi Tianzun himself swinging a giant axe — shua, shua, shua — shaving a mountain into slices, laying them neatly on the ground, stomping them into place, patting the dust off his hands, then slinging his axe over his shoulder and swaggering elegantly into the horizon.
Argh!
How could he imagine Yuan Shi Tianzun like that? That was sacrilegious.
He clutched his head miserably. Clearly his heart lacked sincerity — always drifting into irreverent nonsense. No wonder gods never manifested in front of him.
He was in the middle of berating himself when he heard a strange rumbling from ahead — something massive traveling down the gray road.
He looked up.
A gigantic vehicle approached — three zhang long, bizarre in shape, and not pulled by oxen, horses, or anything else.
Inside were villagers packed tightly, one man's hoe even sticking out the window.
A few old farmers were singing:
"Farming all day, sipping thin soup,
patching tiles, sleeping in straw huts.
Weave cloth all night, still no clothes…"
Then everyone burst into laughter.
"That song's outdated! That was before Tianzun arrived! Now we've got food, houses, and good clothes!"
"Hahaha!"
Ma Tianzheng's jaw nearly dislocated. He waved desperately at the giant vehicle:
"Stop! Stop—!"
The two novice drivers panicked.
"There's someone in the road! Slow down! Brake!"
The one controlling the sun-shade panel yanked it down. The one in charge of steering stomped the brake. Even so, the vehicle skidded forward a good distance before halting in front of him.
Sweating, the two drivers stuck their heads out:
"Daoist! What are you doing standing in the middle of the road? You think a big vehicle like this can stop instantly? You almost got flattened!"
Ma Tianzheng, still shaken, stiffly replied:
"I… thought you could stop easily."
"Easily?!" the drivers barked. "Even a horse cart can't stop instantly! Do you not avoid carts on the road?"
Actually, yes — he always dodged horses, oxen, donkeys, because animals were unpredictable. But this thing had no animal pulling it, so he had no idea what it was… hence the misunderstanding.
Mild-tempered as always, he bowed.
"The fault is mine."
That startled the drivers — apologizing to an actual Daoist was risky bad luck — so they quickly softened.
"We should've spotted you sooner. Sorry, Daozhang."
"It's fine," Ma Tianzheng replied, then pointed at the huge vehicle. "But… this cart? How does it move without any beasts pulling it?"
The villagers laughed.
"This is the vehicle of the Mao-Ri Xingguan! Tianzun lent it to us!"
"What?" Ma Tianzheng stared. "The… Mao-Ri Xingguan?"
"Yes!" one driver said. "We didn't know who that was before. White-Master explained it. Apparently, he's a great heavenly rooster spirit — wakes up the sun every morning with a crow."
"…And what does that have to do with the cart?"
"It runs on sunlight," the driver explained. "As long as the sun rises, it moves. When the sun sets, it stops."
Ma Tianzheng's eyes widened.
"Are you serious?"
The entire cartload of villagers laughed loudly.
"Come up and see!"
Of course he went. Not just to see — he glued his eyes to everything, clambering aboard and squeezing into place among the farmers.
A lie. It must be a lie!
The driver pointed upward.
"Look. That panel over the roof? That's the sun-shade. When we pull it open and let sunlight hit the cart—"
He lifted the panel just a little.
The vehicle began to move. Smoothly. Immediately.
Ma Tianzheng froze.
"!"