A narrow, winding mountain road stretched south from Gaojia Village, snaking all the way to Shi Family Gully.
Shi Family Gully sat right on the border between Heyang County and Chengcheng County—remote, dry, and unlucky. The whole place barely had a hundred villagers, and even by late-Ming standards, that counted as "barely surviving, but with enthusiasm."
The drought hadn't spared them either. Crops failed, wells dried, and life slid steadily toward the usual late-dynasty options: starvation, banditry, or prayer with low expectations.
Things only changed after Li Daoxuan's domain expanded far enough to notice them. Grain arrived. Rain followed. Misery was postponed indefinitely.
Now the villagers, energized by the novelty of not dying, spent their spare hours hacking away at the dirt road, desperately trying to build a concrete path straight to Gaojia Village. Once connected, the fabled "Sun Bus" could run here—and with it, the chance to go work in Gaojia Village and earn real wages instead of surviving on hope and tree bark.
That said… with just over a hundred villagers, nobody was sure whether the road would be finished this year, next year, or by the next dynasty.
That morning, as they were digging, a long line of wheelbarrows rattled down the mountain path—wooden wheels groaning, axles screaming for mercy. Every cart was piled high with grain.
Pushing them was a group of men who looked… unfriendly. Broad-shouldered, scarred, armed, and carrying the relaxed menace of people who had stopped worrying about moral consequences years ago.
The villagers froze.
Then they saw the grain.
Fear downgraded itself to cautious optimism.
"This must be Gaojia Village's people," someone whispered. "Bandits don't deliver food."
The village head swallowed hard and stepped forward.
"E-excuse me, sirs… may I ask—"
The man at the front looked up.
It was Lao Nanfeng—former elite from the Guyuan mutineers, now proudly employed as "grain escort with behavioral correction."
He explained the mission plainly:
The grain was to be stored here.
Any "returning bandits" passing through would be fed.
Anyone who got ideas after eating would lose their head.
Said head would be displayed publicly, for educational purposes.
The village head nodded so fast his neck nearly snapped.
Lao Nanfeng lost interest immediately after and took his men into the village. Old habits died hard—he ordered the grain unloaded, then had the empty wheelbarrows arranged nose-to-tail around their camp, forming a crude wagon wall.
Grain went in the center, covered with oilcloth.
Tents went up around it.
It looked… alarmingly professional.
One of the men crept over and whispered, "Brother Nanfeng… this is a perfect chance to run. Dao Xuan Tianzun might not be watching right now. We take the grain, vanish into the mountains—free men."
Lao Nanfeng didn't answer immediately.
He just remembered the last time he'd tried that.
The wooden fortress.
The corridors.
The traps.
The feeling of being chased by things that technically shouldn't exist.
Smack.
He slapped the man across the head.
"Use your brain," Lao Nanfeng snapped. "Are we dealing with a man? No. A general? No. This is a god. A god. A god. Say it three times so it sinks in. If a god wants you, where are you going?"
The man clutched his head and whimpered.
Lao Nanfeng continued, calmer now. "Dao Xuan Tianzun said our crimes count as war crimes[1]. Ten years of reform labor. But good behavior earns reductions. Warden Zhong told you his story, right?"
Everyone nodded.
"He used to be just like us. Did his time. Behaved. Got released. Now he lives in Gaojia Village, eats meat, gets paid, and sleeps indoors."
Lao Nanfeng exhaled slowly.
"Frankly? Being a convict in Gaojia Village beats being a border soldier in Guyuan. Here, you work—but you eat. Sometimes you even get sugar."
That got attention.
A subordinate muttered, "Honestly… we didn't have freedom back then either."
"Exactly," Lao Nanfeng said. "If you're going to be controlled anyway, might as well be full while it happens. No more talk of escape. I'd rather die than go back into that damned wooden castle."
Right on cue, another man ran up, pale-faced.
"Brother Nanfeng! Ten men escaped—former guards from Wolf Qianhu's unit."
Lao Nanfeng blinked.
"…Oh?"
Then he smiled.
"Well then. Let's watch."
He stood up and scanned the sky. Moments later, something massive began descending in the eastern distance.
A wooden fortress.
Slow. Silent. Unavoidable.
"There it is," Lao Nanfeng said, pointing. "Call everyone who didn't run. We're getting front-row seats."
Ninety men followed him up a nearby hill.
From above, they finally saw the fortress clearly.
It was enormous. Labyrinthine. Filled with twisting corridors, traps, and moving shapes whose eyes glowed red in the dark.
Someone whispered, "What… is that?"
Lao Nanfeng folded his arms.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun's Underworld."
The ten escapees were already running below.
Then a golden hand descended from the sky behind them.
"Ah," Lao Nanfeng said cheerfully. "That move."
The hand herded them forward—politely, firmly—straight into the fortress.
Screams followed.
One man fell into a pit and fainted at the sight of a mechanical cockroach.
Another triggered a trap and dropped into a pool, where a plastic shark swallowed him whole.
A third was chased by a giant iron ball, tripped, and got rolled over—
—and survived, because it was inflatable.
Nobody escaped.
Eventually, a golden hand scooped all ten out, dropped them back into Shi Family Gully like toys from a cup, and withdrew.
They lay there, unmoving.
Lao Nanfeng walked over and kicked one lightly.
"Still thinking of running?"
"No," the man croaked. "Never again."
Lao Nanfeng nodded, satisfied.
"Good. Eat your fill. Work hard. Gods don't like repeat offenders."
Trivia Notes
[1] "War Crimes" (戰爭罪) — A modern legal term deliberately applied by Dao Xuan Tianzun. Late-Ming law did not classify such crimes clearly; this redefinition allows systematic punishment without feudal loopholes.
[2] Wagon Wall Defense — A real historical tactic used by Ming troops and rebels alike, especially during supply defense. Cheap, ugly, effective.
[3] Underworld Imagery — Traditional Chinese depictions of Diyu (Hell) emphasized punishment as education, not annihilation. Dao Xuan Tianzun's version follows the same philosophy—pain with a lesson plan.
[4] Sugar as Morale — In the Ming period, sugar was a rare luxury for common soldiers. Issuing it deliberately signals prosperity, control, and psychological dominance.
[5] "Return Home Bandits" — Disbanded rebel soldiers after amnesty often caused more damage than active rebels, due to hunger, resentment, and lack of resettlement support.