The vehicle moved.
It truly moved.
Ma Tianzheng stared in stunned silence as the sunshade above gradually opened. As more sunlight poured in, the vehicle accelerated, rolling smoothly forward along the gray road.
His heart trembled.
Did it truly move faster when exposed to stronger sunlight?
No.
Impossible.
This had to be a trick.
"They are deceiving me," he muttered.
Suddenly, he shouted, "Close it. Pull it shut."
The command made no sense in this context, yet the novice drivers reacted instantly.
During their training, Zheng Daniu had often barked the same order at them. Over time, the phrase had become deeply ingrained. The moment they heard it, their bodies responded on instinct.
Without hesitation, the driver in charge of the sunshade pulled it closed.
At once, the vehicle slowed.
Its forward momentum dwindled until it coasted to a complete stop.
The driver at the wheel turned around in confusion.
"What was that for?"
The sunshade operator scratched his head awkwardly.
"This Daoist priest shouted it. I thought Daniu was yelling at me again, so I closed it."
Silence filled the vehicle.
Everyone turned to look at Ma Tianzheng.
He paid them no attention.
His head was stretched out the window, his neck craned upward as he stared fixedly at the sunshade. His face was filled with disbelief.
"It is real," he whispered.
"When the sunshade is closed, it cannot move."
His voice trembled.
"So it truly depends on sunlight."
The villagers exchanged amused glances.
Outsiders really knew nothing.
Once, they had been the ignorant ones, ridiculed by others. Now, they found themselves watching outsiders struggle to comprehend the most ordinary truths of their new world.
The driver reopened the sunshade.
Sunlight fell upon the vehicle once more.
It moved again.
Before long, they arrived at Wangjia Village.
The farmers climbed down, carrying their tools as they prepared to begin their work. The drivers leaned out and waved.
"We will return in two hours."
The villagers nodded.
"That will be enough."
The vehicle turned around atop a circular cement platform, preparing to return.
Ma Tianzheng remained seated inside, unmoving.
One of the farmers looked at him curiously.
"Daoist priest, are you not getting off?"
Ma Tianzheng pointed toward the village outside.
The land was lush and green.
Wild grass grew in abundance. Trees bore fresh leaves. Life flourished everywhere.
It was completely different from the desolate wasteland he had traveled through.
"How can this place be so full of life?" he asked hoarsely.
The farmers laughed.
"Tianzun summoned the Dragon King and brought rain."
Ma Tianzheng froze.
The Dragon King.
He had only just witnessed the chariot of the Lord of the Morning Sun. Now there was talk of a Dragon King as well.
This had to be deception.
It had to be.
One of the drivers leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"The Saintess said the Dragon King was unwilling at first. Dao Xuan Tianzun seized it by the neck and forced it to bring rain. The Dragon King did not dare resist at all."
He gestured with his hand.
"It was like a small snake in Tianzun's grasp."
Ma Tianzheng's breathing grew unsteady.
This could not be real.
It simply could not.
"Daoist priest," the driver said, "if you are not getting off, we are returning to Gao Family Village."
Ma Tianzheng hesitated briefly before speaking.
"May this humble Daoist continue to Gao Family Village with you?"
"Of course," the drivers replied cheerfully.
"Just remain seated properly this time. Do not lean out the window again."
Ma Tianzheng nodded.
His neck already ached from earlier.
The vehicle completed its turn and began its journey back.
Ma Tianzheng sat silently, his mind in turmoil.
He had devoted his entire life to studying the Dao. For over forty years, he had cultivated faith and discipline. Yet as time passed, doubt had slowly eroded his conviction.
He had begun to wonder.
Were the gods truly real?
Or were they merely stories told to comfort mortal hearts?
But today...
Today, everything had changed.
The vehicle soon approached Gao Family Village.
The driver suddenly pointed ahead.
"Look. The Dragon King."
Ma Tianzheng's body jolted.
He leaned forward and looked toward the sky.
A low cloud hovered above the fields.
From within it emerged a massive dragon's head.
Mist poured from its mouth, falling gently upon the earth below.
Rain.
Real rain.
His heart shattered.
"It is real," he cried.
"It truly exists."
Tears streamed down his face.
"For forty years... forty years..."
His voice trembled uncontrollably.
"This humble Daoist nearly lost faith."
"I doubted the Dao. I doubted the heavens."
"I almost became an unbeliever."
"But now..."
"I have seen it."
"I have truly seen it."
At that moment, far beyond his perception, Li Daoxuan was eating a bowl of Hechuan lamb noodles.
While slurping a long strand of noodles, he noticed the solar vehicle returning. A Daoist priest suddenly jumped down and ran toward the rain, crying uncontrollably.
Li Daoxuan blinked.
"A Daoist?"
He leaned closer, observing.
This was no ordinary scholar wearing Daoist robes for fashion. This man bore all the marks of a genuine wandering priest. His robe was worn. His sandals were made of hemp. His hair was tied in a proper Daoist knot. He carried a whisk and a sword.
A true Daoist.
Li Daoxuan's lips curled into a grin.
Normally, he would observe newcomers carefully before revealing anything.
But this was different.
This was a Daoist.
A profession built upon belief in beings like him.
His playful side stirred.
He wanted to see how this man would react.
Without hesitation, he turned off the nebulizer and withdrew the dragon head.
The rain stopped instantly.
The Dragon King vanished.
Ma Tianzheng froze mid-stride.
Where had it gone?
Before he could recover, something else appeared.
A divine figure descended from the heavens.
It was Nezha, the Third Prince.
He streaked across the sky with impossible speed, circling once before vanishing.
Ma Tianzheng stood motionless.
Five full seconds passed.
Then realization dawned.
"The Dragon King fled," he whispered.
"It fled because Nezha had arrived."
His entire body trembled.
His faith, which had wavered for decades, was now reborn with absolute certainty.