Gao Yiye smiled gently.
"Uncle Xu, this house… from now on, you'll be the one managing it."
Xu Dafu stared at the massive stone structure towering before him — big enough to make a buffalo nervous — and nearly jumped out of his skin.
"S-so big… for me to manage?"
Li Daoxuan didn't bother explaining. He simply took out a leftover firecracker from Spring Festival, peeled off the red paper skin, unwound the coil, and spilled the inner powder onto his palm.
Firecracker powder wasn't much — a small pinch — but the composition was practically early Ming black powder: nitrate salts, sulfur, charcoal. (Notes blended: historical gunpowder really was this simple, and what mattered most was the skill of grinding — finer grains meant faster burn and better efficiency, which is why ancient gunpowder workshops relied on trained hands rather than brute force.)
He rolled the empty paper shell back into a tube and held it up to the small window of the Workshop's stone chamber, pouring the powder inside.
"Yiye, take Xu Dafu in for a look."
Gao Yiye nodded and led the still-confused Xu Dafu through the entrance.
Inside, the overturned stone vat rose like a giant's helmet, creating an interior so vast it felt like stepping into an underground arena. The echo alone made normal humans feel insignificant.
Xu Dafu, timid by nature, shrank even smaller under the cavernous ceiling. His arms stiffened to his sides like he was afraid to accidentally offend the walls.
Yiye pointed toward the mound beside the window.
"Look over there."
Xu Dafu followed her finger.
"Huh? A whole pile of… strange little balls."
"That," Yiye said proudly, "is the celestial fire-powder given by Dao Xuan Tianzun. Things from the celestial realm are too big for our mortal world, so they can't be used directly. That's where you come in — you'll grind them down."
Xu Dafu didn't understand "celestial realm," but he understood the pile. He hurried forward and scooped up a round pellet, sniffing it.
"This one is sulfur…"
Another sniff.
"This one is charcoal."
Then, another.
"Nitrate…"
He quickly figured out the entire composition and frowned.
"This is just pre-mixed gunpowder. But… every particle is huge. Why didn't they grind it finer before combining it?"
Yiye gave him a look.
"Isn't that exactly what you're here for?"
Xu Dafu's eyes lit up.
Right! The female hero dragged me here for a reason. Why am I asking dumb questions?
He bowed deeply.
"Sage Lady, I understand my duties now. I will grind these spherical materials into fine powder and recombine them according to the correct proportions."
Yiye nodded.
"Tianzun also said one person isn't enough. You'll need to recruit apprentices. Don't worry about the old saying 'when the apprentice learns everything, the master starves' — the Workshop will appoint you Director. You'll oversee all production. Your salary will be higher than when you work with your own hands."
Xu Dafu almost burst into tears.
Dao Xuan Tianzun… what a benevolent lord! He even considered the danger of teaching apprentices and starving — and warned him ahead of time! And promised a promotion! And a higher wage! (Notes: the ancient mindset was beautifully straightforward — a promise was a promise. Modern workers, meanwhile, hear "promotion and raise" and instinctively search for the nearest exit.)
In that exact moment, Xu Dafu's spirit soared. He felt capable of grinding mountains into powder.
Li Daoxuan, watching this, thought privately:
Ancient people are too pure.
Tell a modern worker "promotion and raise," and they'd immediately enter high alert.
Because everyone knows — that's just the boss's pancake, a big delicious dream promise that you can never actually eat. Modern employees survive on boss pancakes, coworker gossip, and stolen minutes hiding from work. Calories everywhere.
To avoid crushing the innocent soul of this ancient villager with such modern cruelty… I'll just be a decent boss for once. And actually give him that promotion later — no pancakes.
Yiye continued, "The Workshop is still empty. No doors, no windows, no tools. You'll need supplies. Just ask Secretary Tan. He'll prioritize all resources for the Workshop. Then go to Short-Term Labor Village and recruit apprentices. The Workshop must start running as soon as possible. Tianzun has been waiting a very long time for gunpowder."
(Notes: "Short-Term Labor Village" is Li Daoxuan's thinly veiled joke about ancient labor systems — a playful contrast to modern workplace cynicism, where every job feels short-term even if the contract says otherwise.)
Xu Dafu bowed again.
"Understood. I will not fail Tianzun."
With tasks assigned, Yiye and Li Daoxuan headed back to the main fortress. Xu Dafu ran off excitedly to find Tan Liwen.
Yiye yawned — a big, unladylike one — and staggered toward the watchtower. She looked utterly exhausted. Halfway up the stairs, she nodded off mid-step and pitched forward.
Li Daoxuan had already sensed her condition. He reached out and lifted a single finger.
She fell right onto it.
"Ah!"
The jolt snapped her awake. She pushed off his finger with both hands, stepping back quickly. Her cheeks pinked.
"Thank you, Tianzun…"
"Up late painting again?" he asked.
"…Mm."
If he asked her directly what she was painting, she would obediently report everything. But she clearly didn't want to offer it up herself. Using divine authority to force the answer felt… wrong.
So he changed the question.
"How's the progress?"
Instant energy.
"Almost done! When I finish it, I'll show everyone and scare them half to death!"
"You're exhausting yourself just to scare people?" Li Daoxuan laughed. "As expected of the naughtiest girl in Gaojia Village."
"Ehehe."
"Alright, go sleep."
"I can't. I need to stay awake in case Tianzun needs me to issue decrees."
"That won't be necessary," Li Daoxuan said gently. "If Gaojia Village collapses just because I don't issue orders for one day, that would be my failure. You don't need to keep burning the candle at both ends. Paint during the day. Sleep properly at night. I'll wait to see what masterpiece you're making."
"O-okay!"
She rubbed her dark eye circles.
"Then I'll really go sleep. If Tianzun has decrees, wake me."
"Go."
The girl pattered up the tower stairs and collapsed into bed, falling asleep within minutes.
Li Daoxuan truly had no intention of issuing any decrees. He would simply observe — at least until she woke up.
He was thinking this when noise rose from outside the fortress gate. A large crowd of villagers gathered in a circle. In the middle, Gao Chuwu and Xing Honglang were gearing up, fists raised.
A duel.
Of course.
(Notes: Village duels were basically the ancient version of free entertainment — cheaper than temple fairs, louder than festivals, and ten times more dramatic.)