Since Dao Xuan Tianzun had spoken, no one dared object.
"Very well," the group agreed unanimously. "Let Reverend Zhan Seng persuade him toward goodness first. We'll wait outside. If persuasion fails—"
Tie Niaofei smiled politely and finished the sentence for everyone.
"—we carve him up."
Zhan Seng was delighted.
"I knew it!" he declared joyfully. "Dao Xuan Tianzun and all benefactors here are compassionate people!"
Several people silently reflected that their definition of compassion involved blades, but no one corrected him.
"Master," Tie Niaofei said respectfully, "you are a revered monk. I am a salt smuggler. If we walk together, it might… tarnish your reputation."
Zhan Seng nodded gravely.
"A fair point. Reputation is a monk's second life."
Thus, they split.
Zhan Seng, staff in hand, strode openly toward Hedong Circuit city—upright, confident, and unafraid. A famous monk from Puji Temple could walk anywhere. Gates opened themselves for men like him.
Tie Niaofei, meanwhile, picked up a black burlap sack, muttered an apology, and stuffed Dao Xuan Tianzun's puppet body inside.
The puppet was half a man tall but weighed little. Thin wooden limbs, hollow core—easy to carry. Tie Niaofei slung the bag over his shoulder like contraband salt.
Inside the bag, Li Daoxuan was deeply dissatisfied.
No vision. No dignity.
He poked the burlap experimentally.
The fabric gave way with a quiet rip.
A small hole opened.
Ah. Civilization.
Through the tear, Dao Xuan Tianzun observed the world like a god peeking through a keyhole.
At the city gate, Tie Niaofei was greeted with radiant smiles.
"Boss Tie! You're back!"
"No entry tax today, of course."
"Safe travels, God of Wealth!"
Meanwhile, honest civilians queued under the sun, coins ready, being inspected like livestock.
From inside the sack, Dao Xuan Tianzun watched silently.
Merchants truly are the only class with immunity in this world.
They entered Yuncheng, Hedong Circuit.
Later generations would know this city well. The character yun—transport, fortune—fit it perfectly. Salt, tea, grain, horses. Jin merchants swarmed like ants around sugar, moving goods north to the border garrisons.
Most merchants were necessary evils—greedy, but useful.
And then there were predators.
Among the crowd thrived the Eight Great Jin Merchants, smiling as they fed the frontier with one hand and strangled it with the other.
Past the merchant district, the scenery changed.
Alleys darkened.
Salt workers huddled in corners, refugees herded in by chaos, eyes hollow with fear. They watched every passerby like hunted animals.
From inside the bag, Dao Xuan Tianzun sighed.
Tie Niaofei felt it instantly.
He reached into his sleeve, pulled out silver fragments, and walked the alleys. One by one, he placed silver into rough, trembling hands.
He leaned close and whispered,
"If you want to live—leave Hedong. Go west. Someone will meet you."
By the time they looked up, he was gone.
The salt workers stared at the silver.
Staying meant exploitation.
Leaving meant risk—but also freedom.
Chaos was opportunity.
That night, several slipped away.
Back at the Salt Administration residence, Tie Niaofei was welcomed like family.
Old benefactor, after all.
His men were settled in a side courtyard. Reconnaissance was quick.
"Huang Yunfa is in the next courtyard," his men reported with wicked grins. "Reverend Zhan Seng arrived earlier. He's two courtyards over."
Tie Niaofei chuckled.
"Being a monk is convenient. Walks into the city clean, stays at the Salt Administration for free. Meanwhile, we merchants have to pay."
A shadow flipped over the wall.
Zhan Seng landed softly, palms pressed together.
"Amitābha! Excellent, excellent! Benefactor Tie—if monkhood is so convenient, why not renounce the world and cultivate with me?"
Tie Niaofei gestured to the sack.
"Even if I renounced, I'd follow Dao Xuan Tianzun. Daoist priesthood has better job security."
Zhan Seng smiled serenely.
"You misunderstand. Dao Xuan Tianzun embraces all paths. He even tolerates monks like me."
Inside the bag, Dao Xuan Tianzun:
I tolerate you because you're useful.
"Alright," Tie Niaofei said. "We're in. Master goes first?"
"Naturally," Zhan Seng said. "This humble monk shall persuade him toward goodness."
Everyone agreed. No one expected success—but also no danger. No merchant would dare harm a monk inside an official residence.
Half an hour later, Zhan Seng returned.
Dejected.
"I advised him to stop trading with the Manchus," he said. "He denied everything. Said he was innocent as snow."
Tie Niaofei laughed.
"Too many eyes. He's embarrassed to admit treason. Once he leaves the city, try again. Fewer witnesses."
Zhan Seng brightened.
"Excellent, excellent!"
"My turn now," Tie Niaofei said. "I'll find out when he leaves and which road he takes."
"How?" Zhan Seng asked.
Tie Niaofei smiled.
"Business."
Zhan Seng fell silent.
Tie Niaofei adjusted his robes, adopting the polished air of a respectable merchant, and headed toward Huang Yunfa's courtyard.
At that moment, Dao Xuan Tianzun slipped out of the sack.
No way I miss this.
He scurried to the ivy-covered wall between courtyards.
Test of co-sensing mobility, he mused.
Wooden fingers gripped vines. Wooden feet found cracks.
Stable.
With stiff, clattering movements—like a haunted toy with ambition—Dao Xuan Tianzun climbed onto the wall.
From above, he peered down.
A merchant about to be hunted, he thought calmly.
Let's watch how predators talk to each other.