Unease crept up Shi Kefa's spine like a cold finger.
It started with the title.
Dao Xuan Tianzun.
Any man in the Great Ming who called himself that either had real divine backing—or was about to ask you for donations, incense money, and possibly your firstborn son. Add to that the man's strange attire, his stiff posture, and that unsettling expression that looked carved rather than grown, and Shi Kefa's instincts screamed a single phrase:
White Lotus.
Or one of its cousins. Same poison, different label.
The Dragon Gate Ferry, moments ago merely crowded and noisy, now felt like a trap laid with smiling faces. The river roared below, the dock creaked beneath his boots, and suddenly Shi Kefa became keenly aware that if this turned ugly, his corpse would feed fish before any report reached the capital.
Calm, he told himself. You've faced corrupt officials and armed bandits. A cult leader with good posture is still just a man.
Then Dao Xuan Tianzun smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
It was the kind of smile that made one wonder whether the face underneath was still human.
"Shi Kefa," the Tianzun said pleasantly. "You're quite famous. I know all about you."
Shi Kefa's heart skipped once, very professionally.
"This humble official," he replied, tone flawless, "is but a minor judicial commissioner. 'Famous' would be an exaggeration."
Dao Xuan Tianzun tilted his head, as if amused by the attempt. "Oh? Then let me jog your memory. Hereditary Embroidered Uniform Guard centurion. First year of Chongzhen, passed the imperial examination. Civil and military paths, both walked."
Shi Kefa froze.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the sound of his own pulse.
The jinshi part was public knowledge. Anyone with a mouth and a tea shop could recite that. But the Embroidered Uniform Guard lineage? That was buried deeper than corpses in old cases.
His voice dropped, instinctively. "This information is classified. It must not be spoken of lightly."
Inside the diorama, Dao Xuan Tianzun was smiling.
Outside it, Li Daoxuan had already flicked on Focus, scanning Shi Kefa like a ledger. Sleeve. Seam. Inner lining.
Found you.
Back inside the puppet, Dao Xuan Tianzun continued, tone almost conversational.
"You're a judicial commissioner, yet the court sends you to oversee disaster relief. Odd, isn't it? Unless relief is merely the surface… and intelligence gathering the true task."
Shi Kefa's back dampened with sweat.
"Bandit movements. Refugee concentrations. Grain prices." The Tianzun's finger lifted and pointed lazily. "All of which are far more interesting to the Embroidered Uniform Guard than sacks of rice."
A murmur rippled through nearby militia.
"Did the Tianzun just—"
"Shh, don't breathe too loud."
Shi Kefa's hand slid, almost without thought, to his weapon.
He hadn't brought the xiuchundao. Too obvious. Instead, a foreign blade hung at his waist — a Japanese katana. Scholars wore them for show. He wore his for blood.
"You speak boldly," Shi Kefa said, eyes sharp now. "Are you planning to silence me here?"
Dao Xuan Tianzun spread his hands. "Good heavens, no. I'm not some villain who kills people for knowing things. Besides—" he leaned closer, voice lowering conspiratorially "—your talent may be… average, but your integrity is excellent. That's rare these days."
That hurt more than a threat.
Before Shi Kefa could retort, the Tianzun winked.
"Still," he said, "I wonder if you'll keep writing that secret report after what you're about to witness."
Shi Kefa stiffened. "Witness what?"
"Don't blink."
He didn't plan to. His thumb pressed lightly against the guard of his blade. If this man so much as twitched—
A shout cut through the air.
"LOOK AT THE SKY!"
"The Tianzun is moving!"
"Heavens above—IT'S COMING!"
Shi Kefa looked up.
The clouds split.
A golden hand descended from the heavens.
It was vast beyond reason, dozens of zhang across, fingers like pillars of a palace gate. Sunlight poured off it in blinding sheets. The river seemed to shrink beneath it, reduced to a decorative stream in a god's garden.
Shi Kefa's knees nearly buckled.
Around him, the Gao Family Village militia erupted.
"It's been ages!"
"The Tianzun's hand!"
"Kneel, kneel, don't be idiots!"
The refugees followed suit in a heartbeat. Skepticism died faster than hunger when confronted with physics-defying divinity.
The surrendered bandits did not kneel.
They screamed.
"DEMON!"
"NO, A GOD!"
"DO DEMONS HAVE HANDS THAT BIG—"
Chaos exploded among the thirty thousand men. Some dropped weapons. Some dropped themselves. One fainted standing up.
The golden hand struck the eastern riverbank.
Boom.
The ground shuddered. Dirt compacted like kneaded dough. Another strike. And another.
Villagers fled backward, tripping over each other. Shi Kefa staggered, barely keeping his balance.
Then the hand crossed the river and repeated the motion on the western bank.
Bridge foundations, Shi Kefa realized numbly. He's… preparing the piers.
The hand withdrew.
Silence fell — thick, expectant.
Then it returned.
This time, it held a bridge.
A colossal, multicolored structure, impossibly intact, spanning dozens of zhang. Painted beams gleamed like lacquered jade.
Someone whispered, "Mother of mercy…"
The bridge descended.
BOOM.
The piers sank perfectly into place, as if the earth itself had rehearsed this moment. The hand shook the bridge once. Twice. Like a carpenter checking his work.
Then it scooped mud and stone, packing them tight.
Satisfied, the hand vanished into the clouds.
Less than half an hour had passed.
A bridge now crossed the Yellow River.
No chants. No rituals. No blood sacrifices. Just construction — divine, efficient, terrifyingly practical.
Shi Kefa stood frozen, his worldview quietly collapsing.
"Shi Kefa."
He flinched.
Dao Xuan Tianzun stood beside him, smile unchanged.
"Walk with me," the Tianzun said lightly. "Someone needs to go first. Otherwise, the people will stare at it until the next dynasty."
Shi Kefa swallowed.
"Yes," he said hoarsely. "This official… will go."
And as he stepped onto the bridge, one thought echoed in his mind:
The court is going to have a very bad headache.