Zhao Sheng, much like Xing Honglang had with the cement recipe, immediately recognized the enormous sheet as a celestial formula. And celestial formulas demanded the utmost reverence and careful handling.
He immediately began to roll it up.
But his physical prowess was leagues below Xing Honglang's.
Ten Zhao Shengs combined might not match her strength. The massive, thick paper was a struggle. He managed to roll up a small section before his strength gave out. Huffing and puffing, his grip slipped. The tightly coiled paper sprang open with surprising force, knocking him flat on his back.
Thump. He hit the ground, and the unrolling paper sheet promptly draped over him like a shroud.
He wriggled underneath, creating a small, pathetic hump in the paper.
"Wah!Help! Someone! Help me!"
A crowd of Qingjian villagers rushed over. They re-rolled the giant scroll and helped a flustered Zhao Sheng to his feet. One man looked up at the sky awkwardly. "Our apologies, Tianzun. Master Zhao is a scholar, not suited for such labor. We'll handle this from now on."
Li Daoxuan chuckled. "No matter. Help him carry it back. Study it diligently. Do not mistake a single step."
The villagers chorused with devout sincerity, "We would never dare misuse a celestial formula for growing celestial crops. Please set your heart at ease, Tianzun."
A group hoisted the paper scroll and trotted back to Refugee Valley. They unfurled it with solemn ceremony, but a sea of blank faces stared back—they were illiterate. This was where Zhao Sheng's value shone. He stood before the sheet, reading each character aloud with painstaking clarity.
His audience were all seasoned farmers with lifetimes of agricultural experience. The method for planting corn was intuitive to them. Only the use of the "celestial fertilizer" was entirely new. Fortunately, villagers from Gao and Zheng Families, who had experience with it, were sent over to provide a quick tutorial. The matter was settled.
With the corn issue resolved, Li Daoxuan could turn his attention to the other treasure Xing Honglang had brought back: the red chili peppers.
He could have provided chili peppers from outside the box before, of course. He simply hadn't thought of it. Now that Xing Honglang had introduced them to Gao Village, it was time for some culinary experimentation.
"Xing Honglang, bring out those red peppers. Let me have a closer look."
After Gao Yiye relayed the message, Xing Honglang grinned, pleased. She hadn't expected this little novelty to catch the Tianzun's eye so quickly. She quickly produced the string of dried red chilies, holding them up as high as she could.
She needn't have bothered. With his new "Focus" ability, Li Daoxuan didn't need a magnifying glass. He simply zoomed in for a detailed inspection.
Excellent. They were indeed the familiar red chili pepper, and Xing Honglang had brought back the dried variety.
That made sense. Chili peppers were still a recent introduction to China, arriving even later in the northwest. Even in a major city like Xi'an, fresh peppers would be rare. What she'd found were dried peppers, likely grown in the south and traded north as a "spice."
These would do perfectly!
The Tianzun's "celestial countenance brightened." He issued a proclamation: "This evening, after all work is done, we shall hold a festival. Let it be known as the 'Tianzun's Hotpot Festival.'"
The villagers were momentarily puzzled, but then they remembered the last "Tianzun's Whimsical Festival," which had bestowed upon them the delicious soy-braised beef everyone had loved.
"Fantastic! A festival today!"
"Let's work harder!"
"Finish the day's tasks early so we can start celebrating!"
Morale and productivity soared…
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, villagers finished their labor and returned home. Normally, this was the time to hurriedly prepare the evening meal. But today was different. They were observing the "Tianzun's Hotpot Festival," and all actions followed the divine plan.
Under Gao Yiye's direction, villagers hauled out numerous pots and pans, setting them up by the large pond in Gao Village, lighting fires to boil water.
Simultaneously, Li Daoxuan's hotpot delivery arrived. He had ordered a little of everything: an assortment of meats, vegetables, and offal. From each portion, he sliced off a tiny piece and lowered it into the box.
Villagers watched as enormous chunks of food descended from the sky: chicken, pork, tripe, blood curd, duck intestine, bean sprouts, cabbage, mushrooms…
"Wow!" Many villagers were salivating profusely before the first bite was even cooked.
Li Daoxuan laughed inwardly. Impatient, aren't you? You still need to make the broth. "Add these things to the pots in order, with the water," he instructed through Yiye. "Chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns, old ginger, garlic, salt…"
He listed a long series of ingredients. The villagers lacked most of them—this was a famine year, and common folk had no spare capacity to grow such调味作物 (seasoning crops).
But it didn't matter. What the villagers lacked, the Tianzun could provide. Whatever was missing, he bestowed a small amount for them to add to their pots.
Soon, hundreds of pots throughout the village simmered with fragrant, spicy broth, the aroma permeating the air.
Just as the festive scene reached its peak, Li Daoxuan noticed something… amiss.
On the official road running beside the cement path connecting Gao Village to Zheng Family Village, a procession appeared. A large one. There were mules, horses, carts, and soldiers—a浩浩**** (vast and mighty) column. In the center flew a large banner bearing the character "洪" (Hong). Beside it, in smaller script: "陝西督糧道" (Shaanxi Superintendent of Grain Transport).
Li Daoxuan: "Huh? A government grain convoy?"
Leading this convoy was a man in his prime, wearing the official robes of a fourth-rank mandarin. He had a lean, intelligent face with piercing, alert eyes that immediately marked him as someone not to be trifled with.
Surrounding him were over a hundred private retainers, each tall and sharp-eyed, looking thoroughly capable in a fight.
Li Daoxuan's mind raced. A fourth-rank Superintendent of Grain Transport, surnamed Hong… Could it be who I think it is?
He was correct. The man was none other than the infamous Hong Chengchou, a name that would later echo through history. A notorious turncoat of the late Ming, he was a slender civil official whose military achievements would eventually overshadow those of most generals.
Several days prior, Hong Chengchou had received orders from Hu Tingyan, the Governor of Xi'an, to gather grain and transport it to the provincial capital to fund military campaigns against the increasingly rebellious bandits of northern Shaanxi.
Setting out from Hancheng in Tongguan Prefecture, Hong Chengchou was transporting the grain along the route through Heyang County, Chengcheng County, and Pucheng County to Xi'an.
The journey had been uneventful at first. But upon entering Heyang County, Hong Chengchou heard reports that the bandit Fan Shanyue had rallied a force of nearly ten thousand rebels and was lurking near the county seat.
Hong Chengchou did not fear Fan Shanyue, but it would be the height of folly to march his precious grain convoy straight into a potential battle. Deciding to avoid Heyang County town entirely, he chose to cut diagonally through wild, unpopulated hills to enter Chengcheng County directly.
This detour had now led him to Zheng Family Village… and along the official road beside the strange, smooth gray path, straight toward Gao Village.
(Fact: Hong Chengchou's early career was indeed as a "Superintendent of Grain Transport," a critical but perilous post during the famine-stricken Chongzhen era. His reputation for effectiveness and ruthlessness was already being forged on missions exactly like this one. His presence here is a stark reminder that the chaos of the late Ming is not just bandits and rebels—it's also the grinding machinery of a desperate state, now rolling directly toward Gao Village's doorstep.)