Beside Dragon Gate Ferry, atop a massive riverside boulder, stood the towering statue of Dao Xuan Tianzun, arms spread wide as if embracing heaven and earth, basking in the gentle sunlight.
Before the statue knelt a vast crowd of refugees from Hejin County, their prayers simple and earnest.
They prayed for good weather next year.
For bandits to stay away.
For a son after five daughters.
For a daughter after five sons.
At that moment—
The eyes of Dao Xuan Tianzun moved.
They blinked.
The statue came alive.
His first action was to lower his outstretched arms, muttering with mild irritation,
"Who was the genius who insisted on designing this pose? Arms stretched all day like this—do they have any idea how tiring it is?"
The instant the statue moved, the kneeling villagers erupted in shock and ecstasy.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun has descended!"
"I've seen it with my own eyes!"
"Tianzun! Tianzun!"
Li Daoxuan had no choice but to raise his silicone arms again, returning to the original divine posture.
"Quiet."
The single word fell like a stone.
The crowd fell silent instantly.
"I'm only observing," Li Daoxuan said calmly. "Keep your voices down. Don't alarm the newly arrived official."
The villagers hurriedly acknowledged the command and retreated.
Only then did Li Daoxuan turn his gaze outward, toward Shi Kefa, who was stationed outside Dragon Gate Ferry, carefully organizing the surrendered refugees for the river crossing.
Information surfaced naturally in Li Daoxuan's mind.
Shi Kefa—
A famous general of resistance against the Qing.
A man celebrated for loyalty and integrity.
A man who… almost never won.
He lost again and again, until he died with the Ming Dynasty itself.
His abilities were limited. Sometimes painfully so.
But his moral spine was unbreakable.
He reminded Li Daoxuan of a certain archetype—
"I know I'm weak. But I still have to stand here."
Shi Kefa was precisely that kind of man.
Li Daoxuan sighed softly and sat down at the edge of the dock.
The first group of refugees soon reached the riverbank.
Iron chains had already been anchored across the Yellow River, with pontoons lashed together to form a floating crossing. Soldiers pulled on the chains, stabilizing the pontoons enough to allow passage.
For trained troops, this was manageable.
For thirty thousand refugees—
It was a nightmare.
The pontoons swayed constantly. A single misstep meant falling straight into the river. Many of the elderly could barely walk on level ground, let alone a shifting surface. Children clung to adults, terrified.
The refugees hesitated, stalled at the river's edge.
Shi Kefa watched, heart burning with anxiety, yet utterly at a loss.
From a distance, Shi Jian glanced toward Dao Xuan Tianzun seated by the dock.
The Tianzun has descended… and is watching the crossing?
A thought struck him.
Is he about to intervene?
He guessed correctly.
Li Daoxuan had come to Dragon Gate Ferry for precisely this reason.
In recent days, the continuous relief operations by the Shanxi expeditionary "little people" had driven the Salvation Index soaring. The diorama's observable range had expanded dramatically—now encompassing Dragon Gate Ferry itself.
And this place—
Was perfect.
Because the river here was narrow.
At its narrowest point, the Yellow River spanned only 120 meters.
Inside Li Daoxuan's box—
That was just 60 centimeters.
More than manageable.
Better yet, the materials were already prepared.
When Li Daoxuan had purchased the electric toy train, the shop owner had convinced him to buy several bridge components as well. They had sat unused ever since.
He had hesitated before.
Building bridges felt… too miraculous. Too intrusive.
But now?
Tens of thousands of elderly, women, and children faced the Yellow River. Boats were risky. Pontoons were worse.
One slip. One scream. One body swept away.
For someone less than a centimeter tall, falling into a river wasn't just dangerous—it was fatal. Even Li Daoxuan might not be able to retrieve them in time.
So he stopped hesitating.
Let it be miraculous.
Better spectacle than silent drowning.
Decision made.
Build the bridge.
Dao Xuan Tianzun rose and waved toward Shi Jian.
Shi Jian sprinted over immediately, posture reverent.
"Tianzun, what are your commands?"
From afar, Shi Kefa watched in bewilderment as Shi Jian abandoned his post and rushed toward a strangely dressed figure, treating him with profound respect.
Li Daoxuan said calmly,
"Clear both riverbanks. I'm going to build a bridge."
"Not a pontoon," he added.
"A real bridge."
Shi Jian froze.
A hundred and twenty meters was a short span to the Tianzun—but to an ordinary man, it was unimaginable.
Still, he didn't question it.
He turned and shouted,
"Everyone, retreat from the riverbanks! Move back! Dao Xuan Tianzun is about to bestow a grand bridge!"
The soldiers from Gao Family Village scattered instantly.
They knew better than anyone—when the Tianzun acted, the heavens and earth moved. Standing too close was asking for terror.
The refugees from Hejin County, however, stared blankly.
"A bridge?"
"We thought the Tianzun only bestowed grain…"
"He builds bridges too?"
Shi Jian barked,
"What are you standing around for? Move!"
The soldiers hurried to drive everyone back—Shi Kefa's refugees included.
Shi Kefa, now thoroughly confused, stepped forward.
"General Shi!" he called out. "Why are my people being driven away? They're about to cross!"
Shi Jian snapped back,
"What use is a pontoon? Dao Xuan Tianzun has decreed—he's building a real bridge!"
Shi Kefa stiffened.
"Dao Xuan… Tianzun?"
Li Daoxuan turned toward him and smiled.
It wasn't intentional—but silicone faces were never very good at smiling.
The result was… unsettling.
Shi Kefa swallowed.
"You… are Dao Xuan Tianzun?"
Trivia:
Shi Kefa — A Loyal Man Trapped in a Losing Dynasty
Shi Kefa was not a great general.
History does him no such kindness.
He was cautious, rigid, bookish, and often indecisive. On the battlefield, he lost more than he won. When decisive brutality was required, he hesitated. When compromise was needed, he stood firm. He possessed integrity in an age that demanded ruthlessness.
And yet—
He remains one of the Ming Dynasty's most revered figures.
Shi Kefa was a jinshi, a scholar-official molded by Confucian orthodoxy. He believed, with an almost painful sincerity, that moral conduct could stabilize the world. He trusted systems, rituals, memorials, and righteousness—long after those things had stopped working.
When the Qing armies advanced south, Shi Kefa defended Yangzhou.
He knew the city could not hold.
He knew reinforcements would not come.
He refused to surrender.
The Qing commander offered him high office. Shi Kefa rejected it.
When Yangzhou fell, Shi Kefa was captured. He was urged again to submit. Again, he refused.
He was executed.
What followed was the Yangzhou Massacre—ten days of slaughter that scarred the memory of an entire civilization.
Later generations praised Shi Kefa as a martyr of loyalty, a symbol of unyielding righteousness. Temples were built to honor him. His writings were preserved. His name became synonymous with moral resistance.
But history is unkindly honest.
Shi Kefa's virtue did not save Yangzhou.
His loyalty did not save the Ming.
His death did not stop the massacre.
And yet—
People remembered him.
Not because he was strong.
But because he refused to stop being upright in a world collapsing sideways.
If the Ming Dynasty had more men like Shi Kefa earlier, it might have survived.
By the time it had men like him in abundance—
It was already too late.