Lao Nanfeng reached the main keep of Gaojia Fortress and was escorted straight into the council hall.
The moment he stepped inside, he knew he was out of his weight class.
Big shots everywhere. Serious faces. Heavy atmosphere.
He recognized only a few: the Saintess, Shansier, and Cheng Xu. The rest were strangers radiating the kind of authority that made a seasoned border veteran automatically sit straighter.
Lao Nanfeng didn't dare interrupt. He slipped behind Cheng Xu, sat down properly, and switched into survival mode: listen first, speak later.
Shansier spoke first.
"We need alkali. Alkali requires massive amounts of salt. Shanxi's Pu Prefecture sits next to the biggest salt source around. If we don't secure salt ourselves, then even if the chemical workshop is finished, it'll just be an empty shell."
Chun Hong hesitated. "Didn't the Dao Xuan Tianzun already grant us salt before? If we ask again—"
Shansier cut her off cleanly.
"Don't make Heaven your first option. Only ask when we truly can't solve something ourselves. Salt used to be impossible for us—that's why Heaven stepped in. Now it's not. If we still beg for it, that's not faith. That's laziness."
Cheng Xu nodded. "Exactly. Back when we didn't even have boats or access to the ancient ferry, asking Heaven made sense. Now we can reach Pu Prefecture ourselves. Asking again would just be shameless."
Shansier turned to the newlywed.
"Madam Xing, you know Shanxi better than anyone here. Walk us through how salt actually moves."
Xing Honglang sat upright, her hair gathered into a married woman's bun. Her face still glowed like the world had personally congratulated her.
"The salt doesn't come from Pu Prefecture itself," she said cheerfully. "It comes from Xiechi Salt Lake, in Hedong—the old lands of the Flying Iron Bird."
She continued casually, as if reciting common knowledge.
"Legend says when the Yellow Emperor fought Chiyou, Chiyou was torn apart and his remains formed a great lake—Xiechi. Whether that's true or not, the lake produces salt naturally. Salt workers settled around it, and over time that became Hedong."
Around the table, heads nodded.
Even Li Daoxuan, watching from above, nodded as well.
Learned something new again, he thought.
Xing Honglang went on. "Salt has always been tightly controlled. The government stations heavy troops at Xiechi Salt Lake and monopolizes production and sales."
She grinned.
"But the lake is huge—over forty li long. The soldiers can't watch every inch. Salt workers live hard lives. The state takes nearly everything they produce and pays them just enough not to starve. So they sell salt quietly on the side."
Shansier finished the thought. "Which is why Pu Prefecture became famous for private salt traders."
"Exactly." Xing Honglang laughed. "Pu Prefecture is right next door. Salt leaves Xiechi, passes through Pu Prefecture, then moves downriver from the ancient ferry. In Yongji alone, nine out of ten villagers have sold private salt at least once."
Someone muttered, "Don't let Fang Wushang visit your village. He'd send the whole place to labor reform."
The room chuckled—carefully.
This conversation was definitely not for Fang Wushang's ears.
Shansier summarized. "To secure enough salt for alkali, we need people stationed in Pu Prefecture. Ideally at Xiechi itself—but with government troops there, taking it openly would be suicide."
Cheng Xu agreed. "Seizing Xiechi now would cut off salt to half the Central Plains. That's the same as declaring rebellion outright. That's how idiots crown themselves kings early and die early. Stockpile first. Move slowly."
Bai Yuan added calmly, "But sending a small group to contact salt workers at Xiechi? Completely doable."
Xing Honglang smiled. "That part's my specialty."
Shansier nodded, then frowned. "But small shipments are one thing. Large convoys are another. Shanxi is crawling with bandits. A few carts can dodge trouble. Dozens can't."
Xing Honglang acknowledged the problem. "True."
Shansier turned. "That's where Instructor He and Instructor Zao come in."
Zao Ying frowned. "If our cavalry and firearms show up, won't that expose Gaojia Village? Escorting private salt openly looks an awful lot like rebellion."
Cheng Xu laughed. "That's where you're mistaken. Gaojia Village has nothing to do with this."
Everyone stared.
"These are bandits," Cheng Xu continued calmly. "Shanxi already has bandits everywhere. A particularly fierce group with cavalry and firearms moving salt? Completely believable."
Silence.
Then Xing Honglang laughed. "Perfect. Use my banner. Yongji's Xing Honglang is already known as a major salt queen. I've got no clan left to implicate."
She leaned back, amused. "Let the court think I've openly gone rogue. They'll just assume I'm one more head under Wang Jiayin's umbrella—and maybe he'll even stop robbing our convoys."
From above, Li Daoxuan approved.
Clean. Efficient. Politically filthy in exactly the right way.
Shansier warned, "Remember—we're pretending to be bandits, not actually acting like them. No burning villages."
Xing Honglang waved it off. "Relax. I have standards."
Zao Ying grinned. "Then I'll go to Shanxi with my sister and see the world."
Cheng Xu turned to her. "Zao Tuanlian, how many spare horses does your cavalry camp still have?"
"Three hundred."
"Good," Cheng Xu said. "I'll send three hundred of my men with you. They ride when traveling, dismount when fighting."
At the back of the hall, Lao Nanfeng listened silently.
He understood now.
This wasn't about salt.
This was about building an army without calling it one.
---
Trivia — Why Xiechi Salt Lake Matters
Xiechi Salt Lake (解池) was the single most important inland salt source in northern China for over two thousand years.
Located in Hedong (modern southern Shanxi), it supplied salt to the Central Plains, Shaanxi, Henan, and beyond.
Salt from Xiechi was naturally crystallized, requiring less fuel and labor than seawater salt—making it cheaper and strategically priceless.
Because salt was a state monopoly, whoever controlled Xiechi controlled taxation, logistics, and popular stability.
In the Ming dynasty, losing Xiechi didn't just mean lost revenue.
It meant:
soldiers unpaid,
cities panicking,
and rebellions spreading faster than proclamations could travel.
That's why armies guarded it. That's why bandits orbited it. And that's why no one sane tried to seize it openly—
until they were ready to burn the entire board.