Leaving Gao Village meant order.
Reaching Heyang County meant reality.
The convoy rolled off the cement road, descended along the S-shaped mountain track carved by divine metal blades, and crossed the invisible line where planning ended and improvisation began.
By the time they reached Yang Village, the noise was already rising.
Men with sleeves rolled high swung tools in rhythm. Coins changed hands. Sweat hit dirt and stayed there. The road was being built the old way—slowly, loudly, and with enthusiasm that only appeared when food followed work.
Gao Yiye lifted the curtain slightly.
The people were busy. That alone made her smile.
"They have work," she said softly. "And they're paid on time."
Qiu Ju nodded. "When people can count tomorrow's meals, they suddenly stand straighter."
Dong Xue added quietly, "And when they can work in daylight instead of waiting for night… it feels like being reborn."
Gao Yiye reached out and held their hands.
"That life is over."
The convoy was impossible to miss.
A hundred armed guards. Tight formation. No swagger. No shouting. Just discipline moving forward.
At the center, a carriage.
Inside, a woman who looked calm enough to be dangerous.
The road workers whispered.
"Who's that?"
"You don't know?"
"That's the Saintess."
"Which saintess?"
"The one whose god actually shows up."
That ended the discussion.
As the convoy passed, men stopped working. Tools lowered. Knees bent. No command was given.
Respect moved faster than orders ever could.
Qiu Ju peeked out again. "They're bowing."
Gao Yiye exhaled slowly. "They're thanking someone they'll never meet."
Beyond Yang Village, the land flattened.
Fields stretched wide, dark and wet. Spring planting was underway. Oxen moved. Seeds fell. Farmers worked with the desperate optimism of people who had just been forgiven by the sky.
This was the season that decided who starved later.
The rain had come in time.
That alone was enough to make believers.
They reached Heyang in just over an hour.
No banners. No warning. No ceremony.
Which was why the two old soldiers at the gate nearly rang the alarm bell when they saw an armed column approach.
Before they could panic properly, civilians ran ahead of the convoy, shouting.
"Don't ring it!"
"That's the Saintess!"
"The rain-bringer's people!"
The bell hammer stopped mid-air.
The gates opened.
Someone sprinted for the magistrate's office.
Magistrate Feng Jun barely had time to straighten his hat before he was already sweating.
He stepped out just in time to see the carriage stop.
The curtain lifted.
The woman inside met his gaze calmly.
He recognized her.
Last time, she'd called herself Li Family's First Lady.
This time, the entire county called her something else.
Feng Jun's mind worked fast.
Same person. Different title. Much worse timing.
He bowed properly.
"Lady Li. Third Steward."
A pause.
"…Welcome to Heyang."
Gao Yiye returned the courtesy.
"We're here to open a mine."
Silence.
The air froze—not dramatically, but bureaucratically.
"A… mine?" Feng Jun repeated.
"Yes," she said pleasantly. "Jinshui Gully. Coal."
Feng Jun's smile collapsed in stages.
Private mining wasn't forbidden anymore.
It also wasn't safe.
Not for officials.
Not for careers.
Not for blood pressure.
He thought of audits that didn't ask questions.
Of paperwork that arrived without warning.
Of men who used to sit higher than him and now sat nowhere at all.
His nose started bleeding.
Gao Yiye stiffened. "Magistrate Feng—"
"It's nothing!" He wiped his nose too hard. The smear only made it worse.
Then he laughed nervously.
"Lady Li is… direct."
She waited.
That was worse.
He swallowed.
"To be frank," Feng Jun said carefully, "this matter is… delicate. Since certain people fell from favor, the rules regarding mines have become… flexible in theory, rigid in practice, and dangerous in interpretation."
In other words:
Everyone wanted the money.
No one wanted the blame.
Gao Yiye nodded slowly.
"That's fine."
Feng Jun blinked.
"…Fine?"
"Yes," she said. "We're not asking for protection. Only permission."
He stared.
She continued, voice level.
"The mine already exists. The workers already dig. The coal already moves. The only difference is whether your office knows where it's going."
That hit harder than any threat.
Feng Jun's hand trembled.
"You… you understand what you're asking?"
"I do," Gao Yiye said. "And I understand what you're holding."
She leaned forward slightly.
"So I'll ask you something simpler."
Her tone didn't change.
"How long do you think you can keep holding it?"
The room went quiet.
Not tense.
Just honest.
Outside, carts rolled. People worked. The county breathed.
Inside, Feng Jun realized something unpleasant.
This wasn't pressure.
This was inevitability knocking politely.
And waiting.