At the very moment Flat-Rabbit and Zheng Gouzi were escorting the grain convoy into Heyang County—
Ma Tianzheng stood in the center of Yang Village, freshly changed into a spotless Daoist robe, a snow-bright green-edged sword strapped across his back.
To the west of Yang Village, rolling hills stretched unbroken toward Zheng Village of Chengcheng County. To the east lay something far rarer—flat land.
A wide mountain plain, one of the few places in the region truly fit for farming. It was the agricultural heart of Heyang County.
Or at least, it had been.
Four years of drought had left the land silent.
County Magistrate Feng Jun stood beside Ma Tianzheng, flanked by the county deputy and registrar. He gestured ahead as he explained:
"This mountain plain is the most important grain-producing area of Heyang County. It stretches south from the county seat, north to West Ox Village, west to Yang Village, and east to Mengzhuang Fort. North to south, a little over thirty li. East to west, fifteen li."
He paused, his voice lowering.
"As long as this land receives rain, the people of the entire county will not starve."
While Feng Jun spoke, Li Daoxuan was already calculating.
After the scenic box had been expanded, it could now cover roughly one thousand by six hundred meters at a time. To water this entire core farmland properly, he would need at least thirty separate rainfall deployments.
A bit troublesome.
But saving tens of thousands of lives justified a little inconvenience.
He had anticipated a day like this when the box was upgraded. This time, he brought out four medical nebulizers at once.
The first fitted with a blue dragon head.
The second, red.
The third, yellow.
The fourth, green.
Ma Tianzheng glanced up at the low cloud drifting overhead and felt completely steady. The Heavenly presence was watching. No panic whatsoever.
Before, when he wasn't even sure immortals existed, he could still bluff with confidence. Now that he knew they did?
Even easier.
He flicked his whisk, tilted his head skyward, and closed his eyes, wearing the expression of someone "sensing something profound."
After a long moment, he opened them and spoke calmly:
"This poor Daoist has just felt the spiritual currents of this land. Earth and people alike are outstanding here. With great evil already purged, the heavens are clear. This moment—right now—is the optimal time to pray for rain."
The officials believed not a single word.
But the yamen runners and villagers watching nearby erupted in joy.
"Truly?"
"Really?"
Ma Tianzheng nodded solemnly.
"Truly. What benefit would I gain from deceiving you?"
He pinched his fingers theatrically, performing a calculation no one could verify.
"In the past, a villain like Fan Shanyue lingered here, stirring heaven's wrath. When heaven is angered, rain does not fall. Now that Fan Shanyue is dead, evil no longer pollutes this land."
He raised his voice.
"I will open the altar, inform Dao Xuan Tianzun that the wicked have been eradicated. The Tianzun will then invite the Dragon Kings to descend rain upon this land."
The officials still didn't believe it.
But the people did.
"Please, Daoist, open the altar at once!"
Feng Jun watched the crowd being soothed so easily and thought to himself:
Whether rain comes or not doesn't matter. As long as the people remain obedient, this trip was worth it.
After all—after speeches like that—who would dare imitate Fan Shanyue and rebel again?
Ma Tianzheng selected the village threshing ground and set up a table. From his bundle, he carefully produced a small statue several dozen centimeters tall and placed it at the center.
It was Li Daoxuan's statue.
Naturally, it was thirty-two percent more handsome and three thousand two hundred percent more majestic than the original. Some truths are non-negotiable.
The crowd stared blankly.
"Who's that?"
"Not the Old Lord."
"Not the Primordial One."
"Not Guanyin either."
"Never seen this immortal before."
Ma Tianzheng shouted sharply:
"Silence! This is Dao Xuan Tianzun! Ignorant mortals—mind your manners!"
The villagers immediately shut up.
The Daoist must know more gods than we do, they reasoned. Better listen.
Ma Tianzheng bowed reverently. Feng Jun's men brought forth the offerings.
In a year of disaster, decent offerings were hard to come by. This one was provided by Elder Zhang of Lower Village—a plump rooster.
Elder Zhang, a militia instructor, watched coldly from the crowd.
He didn't really believe rain could be summoned—but his principle was simple:
Gods may be doubted, but never disrespected.
A chicken was affordable insurance.
Ma Tianzheng drew out yellow talisman paper and began scribbling symbols no one present recognized.
Including himself.
Including Dao Xuan Tianzun.
He pierced it with his sword tip and set it alight.
It vanished with a whoosh—so fast it startled everyone.
Li Daoxuan could tell immediately: chemical accelerant.
The villagers couldn't.
"Impressive!"
"He has real powers!"
Ma Tianzheng began his sword dance, the green blade flashing like a blooming flower.
He stabbed another talisman.
"This talisman contains Fan Shanyue's sins!"
He took a sip from a gourd and sprayed it onto the paper.
A red little human shape suddenly appeared.
The crowd gasped.
"There's really a red figure!"
"That's his ghost!"
"He trapped it in the talisman!"
Ma Tianzheng slashed.
The paper split in two.
So did the red figure.
Cheers erupted.
"Good!"
"Cut down Fan Shanyue's ghost!"
"Let him never reincarnate!"
Someone hesitated.
"Wait… reincarnation is Buddhist, isn't it?"
Another scoffed.
"Idiot. Daoism has rebirth rites too."
Ma Tianzheng then raised his head and began reading a proclamation toward the sky—long, rambling, and thoroughly incomprehensible.
But the meaning came through clearly enough:
The bad man is dead. Everyone left is good. Please reward the good.
Finally, he dropped to his knees, incense raised high.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun," he cried, forehead striking the ground,
"grant us rain."
Chapter Trivia:
Rain Prayers and Governance
In late imperial China, drought relief was as much political theater as spiritual appeal. Rituals reassured people that someone—anyone—was still in control. Whether rain fell mattered less than whether panic did.
Dragon Kings of the Four Seas
Each cardinal direction traditionally had its own Dragon King. Multiple colors weren't poetic flair—they were administrative coverage. If rain failed, blame could be… redistributed.
Why Officials Tolerated 'Miracles'
Local governments often supported religious rituals not because they believed, but because belief stabilized crowds. Hunger causes riots. Hope buys time.
Talismans and "Visible Spirits"
Chemical tricks were common among traveling ritual specialists. Spectacle mattered more than authenticity. If it worked emotionally, it worked politically.
The Chicken Offering Rule
In disaster years, modest offerings were preferred. Too lavish looked immoral. Too cheap looked disrespectful. A rooster sat safely in the middle—just like policy.
Rain may come from heaven. Order, however, always comes from people believing someone above is paying attention.