With Pujiu Temple's senior monk personally acting as guarantor, Zhao Sheng's contracts spread faster than wildfire.
Within days, cotton farmers from every village west of Puzhou City came knocking. One family, then two, then entire hamlets signed their names—or pressed muddy thumbprints—onto neatly prepared agreements.
What followed was nothing less than a new agricultural movement, though no one dared call it that aloud.
Fields were torn open for winter plowing.
Canals were dredged for winter irrigation.
Manure piles were hauled out and spread as winter fertilizer.
From above, the countryside west of Puzhou looked alive again—dark earth overturned, rainwater pooling in furrows, farmers laughing as they worked. The drought had not just ended; it had been beaten back.
The east, however, remained gray and silent.
Dao Xuan Tianzun's gaze had not yet reached that side. No rain fell there. Not a single drop.
Eastern farmers stood at the boundary, staring westward as if watching another world. Their throats tightened with envy and despair.
They didn't know—couldn't know—that as the western farmers were saved, faint motes of light rose from their bodies. One by one, those lights drifted upward, slipping quietly into the diorama box.
And with each light absorbed—
The box's field of view expanded.
Slowly.
Gently.
Relentlessly.
Soon, the eastern lands came into Li Daoxuan's sight.
He spoke calmly.
"Dragon Kings of the Four Seas,"
"heed my call."
Rain fell.
Not violently, not dramatically—just enough. Enough to soak the dust, to darken the soil, to make seeds dream again.
All of Puzhou breathed.
Farmers east and west alike threw themselves into work with renewed fervor, as if afraid the rain might change its mind.
And at that very moment—
A massive warship from Gao Family Village docked at Gudu Ferry.
Planks were lowered.
A figure stepped onto Shanxi soil.
Gao Yiye wore white robes trimmed with crimson patterns, jewelry catching the light with every movement. She walked as if the land itself had prepared for her arrival.
Behind her came Qiu Ju and Dong Xue, composed and sharp-eyed.
At her side—one step back—stood Zheng Gouzi, hand never far from his weapon.
Before anyone could speak, a familiar voice burst out laughing.
"Gouzi! Gouzi!"
Flat Rabbit came bounding forward, grinning ear to ear. "You're finally here! I swear, things just feel incomplete when you're not around."
Zheng Gouzi shot him a look. "Your first words should be greeting the Saintess."
Gao Yiye laughed softly. "Oh, don't be like that. I hate formalities."
Flat Rabbit slapped his thigh. "See? Even the Saintess says you're too stiff."
Zheng Gouzi snorted, then couldn't help laughing as well.
Flat Rabbit turned to Gao Yiye. "So—what brings you all the way to Shanxi this time?"
Gao Yiye puffed out her cheeks slightly. "Dao Xuan Tianzun said Puzhou is famous for cotton. Prime quality, famous across the Central Plains."
She clasped her hands behind her back. "We need to secure the supply, establish plantations, and relocate parts of the textile industry here."
Flat Rabbit blinked. "Huh? But Gao Family Village always has cotton, doesn't it? The village stores are basically bottomless. No matter how much we… borrow."
The word borrow landed like a pebble.
Gao Yiye's cheeks turned pink.
Everyone knew.
Dao Xuan Tianzun knew.
Thirty-Two knew.
Tan Liwen knew.
As inventory records grew more detailed, her "borrowing" had become impossible to hide. And yet—
Every missing bolt of cotton was quietly replenished.
Every ledger balanced itself as if by miracle.
Thirty-Two would report the deficit.
Dao Xuan Tianzun would silently provide more.
No scolding.
No lectures.
Just indulgence.
Enough to make anyone blush.
Qiu Ju cleared her throat sharply. "The cotton in the village stores is a divine blessing from Dao Xuan Tianzun. Relying on it forever is irresponsible."
She fixed Flat Rabbit with a glare. "The Dao Xuan Tianzun has decreed that from now on, cotton must be self-sustained. He should not be burdened with endlessly sending cotton down from the heavens."
She gestured westward. "That's why Puzhou matters."
Flat Rabbit stuck out his tongue. "Got it, got it. So the Saintess is here to manage cotton and textiles?"
Gao Yiye waved her hands. "Oh no, no. I'm terrible at that."
She smiled and looked at Qiu Ju. "She's in charge. I'm just here to keep her company."
Of the four secretaries brought from Chengcheng County—
Chun Hong now oversaw the Heavenly Fabric Manor, coordinating hundreds of women across multiple industries.
Xia Yu remained in Chengcheng, organizing embroidery workshops that extracted silver from Xi'an's gentry with surgical precision.
Now, Qiu Ju was stepping forward as well.
And Gao Yiye—who treated all four like sisters—was never going to let her stand alone.
Zheng Gouzi nudged Flat Rabbit. "Now that the Saintess is here, it's time you stop slacking and return to your post."
Flat Rabbit grinned and moved into position beside him.
Two guards.
One step behind.
With Gao Yiye at the front, two women attendants following, and a hundred armed soldiers marching in disciplined ranks, the procession entering Puzhou City was overwhelming.
Zhao Sheng looked like a country gentleman by comparison—respectable, but modest.
Gao Yiye?
She looked like the wife of a top-ranking grand minister.
When Magistrate Qiu Qianfan received the report, his heart nearly stopped.
He rushed out of the yamen, then froze, watching from afar.
"Who is that woman?" he muttered. "Where did she come from? And why is that fellow from Xing Honglang's camp—Rabbit, was it?—serving as her guard?"
He frowned. "He's an imperial officer now. What decorum is this?"
A subordinate whispered, "If she's the wife of an even higher official, it makes sense. Look at her bearing. Second-rank consort, at least."
Qiu Qianfan's eyes widened. "No… first-rank."
He straightened his robes and hurried forward.
"Greetings, Madam," he said deeply. "This humble official is Qiu Qianfan, Magistrate of Puzhou. May I ask—who might you be?"
Gao Yiye smiled. "I am of the Li clan of Longxi."
Qiu Qianfan's soul nearly left his body.
"The Li clan of Longxi?! That Li clan?! Impossible—there are still descendants?!"
He looked again at the entourage.
…No.
It wasn't impossible.
His gaze snapped to Flat Rabbit.
Flat Rabbit chuckled. "The Li clan has long done business with our Boss Xing—ah, pardon me, General Xing. A major partner in Shaanxi."
He shrugged. "She's here to travel. And do a bit of business."
Qiu Qianfan finally understood. "Ah!"
Flat Rabbit added cheerfully, "Didn't you tell General Xing to build factories, expand trade, and employ refugees?"
He grinned. "Congratulations. All of that just arrived."
Qiu Qianfan's expression changed completely.
So that was it.
Not trouble.
Not danger.
The God of Wealth had walked straight into Puzhou City.