Daoxuan Li whistled as he walked back home.
Hard not to be in a good mood: a standalone villa on Zhaomu Hill — over three hundred square meters, big yard, great view — all for a little over six million. With his finances now? Pocket change.
He was already planning the renovation: tear out the entire second floor, turn it into one huge open loft for boxes, one bed, and a computer desk. Nothing else. Pure warehouse chic.
Perfect for the ever-expanding "tiny nation project." Even if the box expanded a few more times, he'd still have room.
The box couldn't expand forever… right? Probably. Hopefully.
Still thinking about his miniature kingdom's glorious future blueprint, he opened the front door, flicked on the living-room lights, and there it sat: the massive box. Before leaving earlier, he had casually set up a drizzle over one patch of land. Now the soil was well soaked.
He packed away the medical nebulizer, tapped the Gaojia Village area with one finger — view snapped back inside.
Night had fallen, but the village was buzzing. Workers, freshly off shift, wandered the commercial district: watching street opera, drinking tea, listening to storytellers spin tales…
He flicked over to Bai Fortress. Quiet. Peaceful. Then he tapped the county town and dropped his focus onto Gaojia Bookstore.
And immediately knew something was wrong.
Gao Yiye, Bai Yuan, and Mister Wang were all awake — and crowding around a bed.
Flat Rabbit lay there unconscious, wrapped in makeshift bandages, blood seeping through in dark patches. The guy looked like he'd been through a meat grinder.
Oh hell no.
That was his little guy.
His little guy was hurt.
Daoxuan's stomach dropped like he'd just watched his pet cat get hit by a cart. "Yiye, what happened?!"
Yiye's head snapped up, relief lighting her face. "Tianzun, you're here!"
Bai Yuan straightened too, dignified even in panic, and gave a deep bow toward the ceiling — though from inside the house they couldn't actually see the low clouds where Daoxuan usually manifested.
Yiye rushed to explain: "Just after dark, five vicious men sneaked into Gaojia Bookstore. They killed two Bai Fortress retainers and two militia sentries. They tried to kill Mister Bai. Flat Rabbit threw himself at the door and held them off."
Four dead. Flat Rabbit gravely wounded.
The fury hit Daoxuan like a flash fire.
Four. Four of his people.
Even the skirmish with the Guyuan rebels hadn't cost this much.
He snarled, "Did you catch them?"
Yiye quickly recounted the fight: five intruders — one escaped, three killed, one captured alive.
Daoxuan let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Bring the survivor out. We're doing this properly. I want to know who thinks they can touch my people."
Bai Yuan saluted upward again and hurried to arrange it.
Soon, Zheng Gouzi and two militia members dragged the captured outlaw into the courtyard, dumping him to his knees.
Bai Yuan's gentlemanly aura was gone. "Hit him. We start with pain."
Daoxuan said it at the same time: "Beat him. No conversation until after."
Execution of orders? Immediate. The militia laid into the man with fists and boots, tossing him around like a sack of grain.
When they stopped, Bai Yuan asked coldly, "Who sent you to kill me?"
The bandit actually spat blood and sneered. "I'll never tell, you government lapdogs."
"You? A hero?" Bai Yuan's glare could slice bamboo. "Hit him again."
And again the militia went in.
Still the man refused to speak.
He knew they wouldn't kill him — dead men don't talk — so he clamped his jaw shut.
Daoxuan finally spoke. "Yiye. Tell Zheng Gouzi to bring a bathing tub."
She relayed the order immediately.
Soon they hauled in a huge wooden bathtub.
Daoxuan rummaged through his cabinet, found a bottle of mint oil, flipped it upside down, and squeezed. Droplets hit the empty wood—
And the entire tub filled itself with mint oil, right to the brim.
The fumes were eye-watering. Even the militia standing closest could barely keep their eyes open.
They didn't know what it was, but the green color and the sharp, burning smell screamed poison. Lots of it.
"Put him in," Daoxuan said. "Everything except the head."
The outlaw paled. "You can't kill me! If I die, you learn nothing!"
"Quit talking," Daoxuan said. "Drop him. Don't splash yourselves."
Zheng Gouzi hoisted the man and tossed him into the tub, leaping back like the thing might melt skin on contact.
The outlaw hit the mint oil with a splash — and screamed.
Every membrane on his body lit up like burning coals. Even the places no man ever wants mint oil to reach felt like they'd been dipped in acid.
"Aaaaah! What is this poison?! Get me out! I'm melting! I'm melting!"
Everyone just watched him thrash.
Daoxuan was usually the kind of guy who would help a stray cat cross the road. But four of his own people were dead. His good temper was gone, burned out completely.
"I'll talk! I'll talk! Get me out!"
Only then did Daoxuan flick a finger inside the box — the tub tipped, dumping out the oil. The outlaw rolled on the ground, shaking, coughing, whimpering.
"Rinse him," Daoxuan said.
Buckets of water crashed over him, washing off the mint oil. The burning eased — except in certain unfortunate places.
Bai Yuan stepped forward. "Speak. Who sent you? Unless you want another bath."
Ming Context:
Mint oil wasn't a Ming product, but painful interrogation involving cold mixtures or medicinal oils was a known technique. This one is a… modern upgrade.
Bookstores in county towns often served as cultural hubs — Gaojia Bookstore's mix of guards and scholars matches that historical role.