The evening air in Han City hung heavy with dust and the faint smell of roasted millet. Through the half-empty streets swaggered two unlikely "lords of the barracks" — Shi Jian and Bai Mao, each leading a trail of soldiers like generals returning from conquest.
They weren't true generals, of course. Just a pair of clever upstarts who'd somehow wrangled control over the food supply — which, in an army starving for three winters straight, was far more potent than a sword or seal.
So now, even the four-hundred-man commanders, men who once barked orders loud enough to scare chickens into silence, bowed and scraped to them.
Because in this army, grain was power.
They stopped before a small flatbread stall — shuttered, silent, and half-collapsed. The old owner nearly fainted at the sight of the uniformed crowd.
"Relax, uncle," Shi Jian said with an easy grin, waving his hand as if to part the tension itself. "We're soldiers, not thugs. Children of the people, remember? No need to quake like we're here for your last bowl of gruel."
The soldiers laughed awkwardly, trying to look less like wolves and more like sheep.
Outside the "box," far beyond their world, Dao Xuan Tianzun watched the scene with amusement from his divine vantage point. "Ah, the art of soft power," he murmured. "Win hearts with grain before you win wars with blades. Not bad, Shi Jian. Not bad at all."
Shi Jian turned back to the trembling shopkeeper. "Word has it your Han City Sesame Flatbreads were famous once — crisp, fragrant, golden brown. So I brought my brothers here to try them."
He smiled wider. "And don't worry — we'll pay."
Dao Xuan Tianzun, watching from above, froze mid-bite on his celestial beef patty.
Han City Sesame Flatbreads again? Seriously?
Every time mortals discovered a new "local delicacy," he was stuck drooling through the glass like a cosmic tourist.
The shopkeeper sighed miserably. "Great sirs, I would love nothing more. But the drought… there's no flour to be had. I barely have enough to live on."
Shi Jian chuckled, producing a small sack from his back. "Look again."
The man opened it — and nearly cried. Fine flour, pure and white as snow.
"Make your famous flatbreads," Shi Jian said kindly. "We'll pay three copper coins a piece. Fair work for fair pay."
The old man's lips trembled. "You… you're good men, truly good men!"
Shi Jian turned to the soldiers behind him, voice suddenly ringing with practiced conviction. "Soldiers exist to protect their people. If the people starve, we've failed our duty. Remember that."
A rumble of assent echoed behind him. "Yes, Centurion Shi!"
Shi Jian exchanged a sly grin with Bai Mao. The Heavenly Lord—ah, Dao Xuan Tianzun—will love this performance.
Unfortunately, outside the box, Dao Xuan Tianzun was fuming.
"They're eating flatbreads again! And I'm still stuck with this cosmic beef patty!"
Before long, everyone was eating. The crack of sesame crust and the soft chew of the bread filled the alley with the music of hunger satisfied.
Centurion Ma sighed blissfully. "Ah, that's the taste of life. These past years, no pay, no meals — I'd forgotten food could make a man tear up."
Then he added, through a mouthful of crumbs, "Thanks to Centurion Shi… and Centurion Wang!"
At once, Shi Jian's eyes sparkled wickedly. "Wang Xiaohua!"
Bai Mao froze mid-bite, face twitching like an irritated cat. "I told you never to call me that!"
He almost blurted out his old alias — Bai Mao, the notorious bandit name — but bit it back just in time. The soldiers nearby chuckled. The tension of the day dissolved into laughter.
Then — a voice sliced through it like a blade.
"Centurions! Urgent orders! Return to camp immediately!"
The laughter stopped.
Dao Xuan Tianzun leaned forward in his seat. "Hmm? Deployment already? Don't tell me they're going after the bandits…"
He tossed aside his uneaten patty and watched through the glowing screen of the box as Shi Jian and Bai Mao hurried back toward the camp, still clutching half-eaten flatbreads.
Inside, torches blazed. Wang Cheng'en, Commander-in-Chief of Shaanxi, stood fully armored, the weight of duty in his stance.
"Looks serious," Dao Xuan Tianzun muttered.
He wasn't wrong.
By the time the last horn sounded, five thousand men stood assembled — 1,500 elite troops gleaming in polished armor, and another 3,500 garrison soldiers in rough cloth and dented helmets. The banners rippled like fire in the dusk.
It was the grandest sight Dao Xuan Tianzun had seen since his "Heaven-Spanning Single-Stroke" mural.
He admired the lineup. "Now this… this looks like an army, not a mob of half-starved farmers."
Wang Cheng'en cleared his throat. His voice boomed across the square:
"Bandit chieftain Wang Jiayin has committed the gravest of crimes—he calls himself king, appoints ministers, and defies the Son of Heaven. His treachery cannot stand."
Dao Xuan Tianzun raised a brow. "Ah, finally. Someone poked the dragon's tail."
Wang Cheng'en continued:
"By decree of the Ministry of War—General Du Wenhuan shall serve as Grand Commander, with Cao Wenzhao of Gushan as his deputy. Together they shall lead the forces of Shanxi, Shaanxi, Pingyang, and Ningxia to encircle Hequ County and eliminate the traitor Wang Jiayin."
As the banners lifted and drums thundered, Dao Xuan Tianzun chuckled softly.
"The imperial court always dances the same dance," he said. "Talk peace with the weak, but bring steel to the proud. You can steal silver, you can plunder granaries—but declare yourself king, and suddenly the heavens remember justice."
He leaned back, eyes glinting like twin suns. "A lesson for all mortals and immortals alike…"
"This," he said, "is no laughing matter."
Trivia Corner –
Han City Sesame Flatbreads (韩城芝麻烧饼)
A humble snack with a surprisingly long résumé. Originating from Han City in Shaanxi during the late Ming, these flatbreads were crisp on the outside, soft within, and coated in roasted sesame seeds.
When baked properly, they stayed warm even in winter — the perfect street ration for soldiers, couriers, and bandits alike.
According to one folk chronicle, Emperor Chongzhen himself once tasted these during an inspection of famine relief in Shaanxi and remarked, "This bread is as resilient as my people." Sadly, resilience couldn't save his dynasty.