Lao Nanfeng nearly tripped over himself in excitement as Zhao Sheng led him into the warship's cabin. "A special reward," Zhao had said. Lao Nanfeng was already picturing barrels of fine wine or perhaps a divine blade forged by celestial hands.
Instead, he found… a square, glossy object lying on the table.
It was a smartwatch.
Li Daoxuan—Dao Xuan Tianzun to those within the box—had ordered it from the mystical realm known as the internet, that modern-day treasure bazaar called Huaqiangbei. It cost barely a hundred yuan, yet its high-definition screen gleamed with the arrogance of something far pricier.
To Lao Nanfeng, however, it wasn't a watch. It was a towering monolith of light. The screen itself was half his height, big enough to reflect his entire bewildered face.
He stared at it as though confronting a divine artifact. "What exactly is this thing?" he muttered, scratching his beard.
"Watch carefully," Zhao Sheng said with solemn importance. "I'll only show you once."
He swiped his hand across the black surface—and the device sprang to life.
"By the ancestors!" Lao Nanfeng gasped. "A Divine Mirror!"
Zhao Sheng, now acting like a seasoned technomancer, flicked through the icons with the grace of a bored deity. "Here's the Play function," he said, tapping a symbol. Dozens of shimmering images appeared. He chose one at random.
A burst of music filled the cabin.
It was an MTV of the pop star Cai Moulin's Love Love Love.
Lao Nanfeng froze. Then his jaw dropped. "An immortal maiden… she's dancing! Heaven above—her limbs are bare! Her arms! Her legs!"
Zhao Sheng immediately covered his eyes. "I'm not watching that. Nope. Not corrupting my spirit today. See no evil, hear no evil—good luck, old man."
As Zhao made his retreat, Lao Nanfeng was trembling, his eyes glued to the screen. "Dao Xuan Tianzun has granted me a celestial vision!" he cried in ecstasy. "Heavenly maidens singing and dancing through the Divine Mirror! Ahahaha! This outshines any show in the flower houses of Jiangnan!"
"Don't get too attached," Zhao Sheng warned from the door. "This divine mirror only lasts a couple of hours before it must be returned to Dao Xuan Tianzun for recharging his divine energy."
"Two hours?" Lao Nanfeng said, already drooling a little. "Two hours is a lifetime! I'll watch all the maidens' dances!"
Zhao Sheng just shook his head and left, hearing the man's off-key voice drift after him:
"A little ambiguous, secretly happy alone—lalalala~!"
Outside, Zhao Sheng chuckled. "Dao Xuan Tianzun truly knows how to motivate his followers."
Meanwhile, Dao Xuan Tianzun's focus had shifted hundreds of miles away—to Hancheng, a crucial stronghold in the Tongguan Circuit of Shaanxi.
The city was bristling with troops. Fifteen hundred Ming soldiers, led by Wang Cheng'en, the newly returned Commander-in-Chief of Shaanxi, now held the line there.
For Dao Xuan Tianzun, this was like changing channels on his cosmic television. He zoomed in on the main command tent, where Wang Cheng'en sat frowning over a stack of ledgers and empty grain sacks.
The man looked exhausted. Not from battle, but from bureaucracy.
"Tell me," he said to his aide, "how many days of rations do we have left?"
The aide bowed. "If we cut the men to half-rations, five days, General."
"Five?" Wang Cheng'en groaned. "Five days, and we're supposed to guard the Yellow River? The moment the bandits show their faces, half our troops will faint before the fight even begins."
The aide looked pained. "You're not like other generals, sir. You forbid plundering from the common people. That's why supplies are…"
"Short. I know." Wang rubbed his temples. "Can we borrow from neighboring counties?"
The aide grimaced. "North is Yichuan—Yansui territory. They won't lift a finger. South is Heyang, and their magistrate's been writing poetry about starvation. Remember Fan Shan Yao's rebellion? That magistrate begged for help, then sent the Governor a letter saying, 'No taxes—take my life instead.' He probably doesn't even have a grain of rice to lend."
Wang Cheng'en chuckled bitterly. "Ah yes, the famous Shaanxi policy: 'No food, no taxes, no shame.'"
He leaned back, staring at the tent roof. "Still… something doesn't add up."
He tapped the table. "Remember Chengcheng County? The night before we marched for the capital, Magistrate Liang treated us like honored guests—gave us potato and cured meat rice. My men were licking their bowls clean."
The aide blinked. "That's right! They don't seem short on grain at all."
"Exactly," Wang said slowly. "So why the poor-mouth routine with taxes? What game are they playing?"
The aide hesitated. "Shall I go investigate, sir? If they truly have stores, we might borrow some."
Wang Cheng'en nodded, eyes narrowing. "Do it. But carefully. If they're hoarding grain, I want to know why."
Outside the invisible barrier of space, Dao Xuan Tianzun smiled faintly.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Looks like the Ming army's doors are about to open."
He leaned back in his realm of glass and circuitry. "Time to slip in unnoticed."
A new plan began to take shape—one that would turn the empire's hunger into his opportunity.