While the people of Hejin County were still being relocated…
Wang Jiayin's massive bandit host swept through Taiyuan Prefecture, Fenzhou (modern Fenyang), Lu'an Prefecture (modern Changzhi), and Zezhou (modern Jincheng), pushing relentlessly into the Qin River basin.
Several days later, more than ten thousand men split off from the main force and marched westward, their objective clear—
Pinelyang Prefecture (Linfen).
The straight-line distance between Pinelyang and Hejin County was barely over a hundred li.
Hooves thundered.
A military courier rode hard, dust flying behind him.
He was an official messenger bearing urgent intelligence. Yet when he arrived at Hejin County, he nearly fell off his horse.
The city was empty.
Not abandoned—emptied.
No magistrate.
No yamen runners.
No common folk.
A dead city.
The messenger knew Bu Zhan Ni had slaughtered the county officials and that Hejin had long since fallen out of effective control—but he hadn't expected it to be this clean.
For a moment, he wondered if the city had been cursed.
Shaking off the thought, he spurred his horse onward and continued south.
When he reached Dragon Gate Ferry, his jaw nearly dropped.
Thousands upon thousands of people were working feverishly—cutting trees, hauling stone, erecting palisades. A massive waterside fortress was taking shape with alarming speed.
Above it all flew a single banner:
"Shi."
The messenger's heart skipped.
Shi Yaoyu?
One of Wang Jiayin's bandit chiefs?
But a closer look told a different story.
The archers on the watchtowers wore regulation armor. Their formations were disciplined. Their movements were precise.
Bandits destroyed.
They didn't build.
This was a government stronghold.
The messenger rode to the gate and shouted, "Who commands this garrison?"
A sentry replied crisply, "Under Grand General Wang Cheng'en of Shaanxi—Centurion Shi Jian."
"…A centurion?"
The messenger almost cursed aloud.
This fortress.
This population.
Run by a centurion?
And the man even dared to fly his own banner?
Suppressing disbelief, he called, "Summon Centurion Shi!"
Shi Jian quickly came out to meet him.
The messenger blurted, "How many troops do you have?"
Shi Jian replied honestly, "I'm a centurion. How many do you think?"
The messenger fell silent.
Right.
That question was on him.
He hurriedly explained, "I am an envoy of Commander Li Huai. Over ten thousand of Wang Jiayin's men are preparing to assault Pinelyang Prefecture. General Li has only eight hundred soldiers. He fears he cannot hold. He requests immediate reinforcement from all nearby forces!"
Behind Shi Jian, the Dao Xuan Tianzun listened quietly.
Eight hundred versus ten thousand…
Li Daoxuan nodded internally. Government troops clearly have the advantage.
Then he froze.
Wait. No.
If I think they have the advantage, then they're absolutely going to lose.
This was the immutable Advantage-in-Me Law.
Shi Jian sighed and replied, "Regrettably, I command only fifty-odd soldiers. And as you can see, I must protect tens of thousands of refugees. I truly cannot spare men."
The messenger expected nothing more. He only said grimly, "Pinelyang is only a hundred li away. If General Li falls, the bandits will come here next."
With that, he turned his horse and rode off without looking back.
Once the messenger vanished, Shi Jian leaned close and whispered, "Tianzun… what should we do? Should we help?"
Li Daoxuan's silicone eyes rotated once.
He considered it for exactly one hundredth of a second.
"Yes."
Shi Jian blinked. "We're… helping the government?"
Li Daoxuan corrected him calmly.
"We are helping the common people."
"Pinelyang is a prefectural city. Its population may exceed a hundred thousand. If it falls, rivers of blood will follow."
Shi Jian inhaled sharply. "…You're right."
Li Daoxuan's awareness extended outward, syncing with his logistics network.
"Do not worry. Reinforcements from Gao Family Village are already on the way."
"How many?"
"Two hundred."
Shi Jian nodded—then soon understood why.
A cannon-armed transport vessel arrived.
Two hundred militia disembarked.
Among them—one hundred veterans from Wangjia Village, led by none other than Wang Er himself.
Officially, they were Bai Mao's "private troops."
In reality?
The most infamous rebel in the land was now commanding a government unit.
This was called infiltrating the system from the inside.
Wang Er had removed his mask and deliberately styled his hair in an outrageous fashion—long bangs covering half his face, a thick beard merging with it, wild and unkempt.
No one could recognize him.
Shi Jian finally realized Bai Mao had been promoted to bazong, now commanding four hundred men.
He laughed. "Then I'll lead Bai Mao's unit to reinforce Li Huai. If all goes well, I might even get promoted myself."
"Go," Li Daoxuan said. "But be cautious. These are smoothbore arquebuses being phased out. Use them wisely."
"Understood."
Wang Er added solemnly, "Rest assured, Tianzun."
Shi Jian left his fifty garrison soldiers behind to guard the refugees. He and Wang Er prepared to march.
Before leaving, Shi Jian hesitated and asked, "Brother Wang… did you bring an image of Dao Xuan Tianzun? Ever since I gave mine away, food hasn't tasted right."
Wang Er tapped his chest.
An embroidered image stared back—its eyes quietly shimmering.
Shi Jian was ecstatic. "I'll embroider one too!"
Dao Xuan Tianzun watched silently.
This is how religions spread, he thought.
By hunger, fear, and extremely practical benefits.