The evening sun stretched the shadows long across the ridges of Huanglong Mountain.
Li Daoxuan was half-lounging on his cloud, munching on what he proudly called a "Chinese burger" (basically a roujiamo), while tapping the "North–South–East–West" buttons on his divine console, studying the terrain around Duzhong Village.
As he zoomed in on the southern hills about seven or eight li away, he spotted two familiar groups moving closer — Cheng Xu and Xing Honglang, each leading their own men.
Li Daoxuan couldn't help but smile. His villagers were on the move again. Out of habit, he tapped the "North" button to scout the route ahead — checking for any hidden bandits or wild beasts.
Dao Xuan Tianzun might be a god now, but when it came to babysitting his "little people," he was absurdly dedicated.
After confirming the path was clear, he flicked the view back to Duzhong Village — and then paused.
"Eh? There's someone there."
Not soldiers. From their gear and ragged look, they were unmistakably bandits on horseback — about a hundred and twenty of them, each with a horse tied nearby, resting in the abandoned village square.
Li Daoxuan frowned. What's this now? Another faction entering the story?
This was getting interesting.
He scrolled north with a few taps… and there it was — another column, a proper army this time, creeping toward the village without banners. No flag, no insignia — but Li Daoxuan recognized the discipline.
"Ah. That's Wu Zimian."
Looks like a show's about to start.
He chuckled, closed the box, and let his cloud dissolve — time to sit back and watch.
Meanwhile, inside Duzhong Village.
Zao Ying and her 120 horse-thieves had finally calmed their nerves after being chased halfway across Shaanxi by Hong Chengchou's private troops. The ambush had scared the life out of them.
"Didn't think there were still officials that fierce around here," she muttered, dusting off her pants as she stood. "All right, break's over. Mount up. We move."
But before they could leave, one of her sentries came running in, panting hard.
"Boss! North of the village — a big force just showed up. Looks like regular troops, and they've got a lot of horses."
Zao Ying's eyes narrowed. "Hong Chengchou's men again?"
Li Daoxuan perked up at that from above. Oh? So you're the one who got chased here.
The scout shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. They're not flying any colors. Can't tell whose army."
Zao Ying smirked. "Hiding their flag? Hah. That's no regular patrol — sounds like someone doing business under the table. Horses, huh… I get it. Must be Wu Zimian, the greedy pig. Heard rumors he's been selling army horses lately."
Li Daoxuan almost choked laughing. This guy's that infamous already? Even random bandits can guess it's him the moment 'horse trade' comes up? Wu Zimian, you're not just corrupt — you're a brand!
Her scout whispered, "Boss, should we avoid them?"
"Avoid him? Please." Zao Ying spat on the ground. "Wu Zimian's no Hong Chengchou. He's a merchant in armor. We'll stay and have a chat — maybe buy a few mounts."
So they waited.
Soon enough, Wu Zimian's forces arrived — carefully. His main camp didn't enter the village; instead, he sent a small squad ahead. The leading guard cupped his hands and shouted a code phrase:
"Three plus two equals what?"
Zao Ying blinked, then smirked. A secret passphrase, huh? Luckily, she knew this one — Wu Zimian's "dark-market codes" were an open secret by now.
"Thirty-two!" she shouted back.
The guard grinned. "Good. You're the buyer."
"Word is, the great General Wu's got some fine warhorses for sale," she said sweetly.
"Five hundred mounts," the guard said briskly. "Thirty-five thousand taels. Cash for reins. Our general deals fair."
"That's a bit steep, don't you think?"
And thus began the grand ritual of bargaining in a bandit village.
From his celestial console, Li Daoxuan could only groan. Come on! Those are my horses! I saw them first!
He could conjure almost anything for his villagers — tools, food, even blueprints — but not living creatures. Horses were his one major gap, and now this random horse-thief had just crashed his order.
You're stealing my business!
Still, Dao Xuan Tianzun wasn't the kind to smite someone over a deal gone sideways. Killing people just because they "bought before he did" felt… beneath him.
Maybe I should just… drop Xing Honglang into the middle of this mess and let them negotiate it out?
He was still thinking when —
Another force entered the scene.
This time, it was huge — several thousand strong, coming from the northeast. Their clothing was all over the place: some in armor, some in ragged hemp tunics, others in stolen silk robes that clearly didn't fit.
Then Li Daoxuan spotted their flag.
A single massive character — "王" (Wang).
The warlord Yi-chuan Wang Zuo-gua had arrived.
Not unexpected, really. He'd been active in Huanglong Mountain ever since the early Chongzhen years.
But he wasn't the same reckless bandit from before. His demeanor had hardened; the torn rags were gone, replaced by a full set of scale armor. His presence was colder, more calculating — less brute, more general.
He turned to his aide Miao Mei. "Wu Zimian's camp is just ahead?"
"Yes, my lord," Miao Mei grinned. "He's stopped at Duzhong Village, seems to be trading horses."
A cruel smile tugged at Wang Zuogua's lips. "Wu Zimian's a waste of a uniform. His men aren't worth much — but if we charge too soon, he'll bolt with the horses, and we can't outrun hooves on foot."
"Miao Mei, Feishan Hu, Da Honglang — each of you take a company. Surround the village from four sides. East, south, west, north — no gaps. Those five hundred horses must not leave the mountain."
Ming Context:
During the late Ming collapse, corrupt generals like Wu Zimian were infamous for selling imperial horses and weapons on the black market. Simultaneously, local rebel leaders such as Wang Zuogua and female bandit Zao Ying emerged around Shaanxi, showing how blurred the lines had become between "official army" and "outlaw band."
Trivia:
The real "Da Honglang" and "Xing Honglang" were both minor historical figures in the peasant uprisings — their nearly identical names are authentic. The author jokes that even he wouldn't dare make up names that confusing unless history did it first.