Dou Wenda was a sensible man.
And a sensible man, when faced with two thousand well-armed soldiers who had recently been rebels and had recently accepted amnesty, knew exactly what to do—
Stay far away.
He busied himself with battlefield cleanup, directing the militia to tend to the wounded, move corpses, and pretend very hard that nothing dangerous had just happened. As long as he was working, he wasn't provoking anyone. As long as he wasn't provoking anyone, he was safe.
Once Dou Wenda tactfully removed himself, the atmosphere immediately relaxed.
Cheng Xu shook the rain off his armor, water splattering everywhere. His face twisted in irritation.
"Damn this weather. Fighting in winter rain—my bones feel like they've been soaked through. Find us somewhere clean. I need dry clothes and a hot bath, or I'll freeze before the enemy ever comes back."
Bai Mao laughed. "You complain like an old man. Come on—barracks aren't far."
Wang Er followed behind, and the three walked together through the rain-slicked streets.
"This rain came fast," Cheng Xu muttered. "No warning at all."
"Shanxi still gets rain," Wang Er replied. "Not like Shaanxi. Over there, the sky looks like it's forgotten what water is."
Cheng Xu nodded, but his brow soon furrowed.
"If this kind of rain becomes common, it'll be trouble. Arquebusiers don't like moisture. Powder hates water even more."
Wang Er's expression grew solemn. "That is a problem."
At that moment, the small puppet sitting on Bai Mao's shoulder let out a soft chuckle.
"Solving it isn't actually that hard."
The three men nearly jumped out of their skins. They turned instantly and bowed.
"Greetings, Dao Xuan Tianzun!"
The Flat Rabbit—Dao Xuan Tianzun in puppet form—waved its round little hand.
"Enough ceremony. Listen carefully. Firearms failing in rain is not a new problem. During Japan's Sengoku period, over a hundred years ago, they found a solution that was cheap, crude, and effective."
All three commanders straightened, faces serious.
"Please instruct us, Dao Xuan Tianzun."
"Bring me something to draw with."
They all looked at the puppet's hand.
Round. Plump. Entirely unsuited for holding a brush.
Silence fell.
Dao Xuan Tianzun: "..."
It cleared its throat.
"Then bring a large bowl of ink."
No one dared laugh.
They rushed inside, forgetting entirely about changing clothes, and soon returned with a bowl filled to the brim. Dao Xuan Tianzun plunged its entire spherical hand into the ink, soaked it thoroughly, then pulled it out.
"Excellent."
With that inky hand, it drew a long tube on the floor.
"This is the arquebus."
The three nodded quickly.
Next, it added a square box over the firing mechanism.
"This is a wooden or bamboo casing. It covers the lock. Rain can fall all it wants—your powder stays dry."
The drawing was… abstract. But meaning didn't require beauty.
Cheng Xu's eyes lit up.
"So the soldiers wear wide conical hats. Load under the brim, then seal the lock before firing."
"Precisely," Dao Xuan Tianzun said. "Simple things often work best."
Wang Er nodded emphatically. "Crude, but clever."
Dao Xuan Tianzun chuckled.
"Of course, this is only a temporary fix. If you want to truly ignore rain—upgrade everything to Chassepot rifles."
The three saluted in unison.
"As you command!"
Dao Xuan Tianzun fell silent again, returning to the posture of an ordinary puppet.
Only then did the commanders finally change clothes, warm themselves by the fire, and head back out beneath oil-paper umbrellas.
Pingyang Prefecture was still a mess.
Rain washed blood into the gutters. Laborers dragged corpses away. Others restocked stones and logs atop the walls, preparing for battles that might—or might not—come again.
Dou Wenda was soaked through, still rushing about. When he saw Cheng Xu, the first thing he asked was the only thing that mattered.
"General… your ammunition supply?"
Bai Mao laughed. "Plenty. From now on, that's the least of our worries."
Dou Wenda finally exhaled.
Then Cheng Xu spoke.
"We didn't come just to sit behind walls."
Dou Wenda's heart jumped. "General… you mean—?"
"We go on the offensive."
"What?!" Dou Wenda nearly shouted. "Two thousand men against two hundred thousand? General, bravery is admirable, but this—this is reckless!"
Cheng Xu sneered.
"Wait for imperial troops, and the rebels scatter. Chase them, and they scatter again. Five years of chasing shadows—how many more winters do you want the people to endure?"
Dou Wenda had no answer.
Bai Mao looked toward the rain-soaked sky.
"Heaven gives rain. The people dare to hope again. If the rebels could be pacified this winter…"
It was a beautiful thought.
But Dao Xuan Tianzun, silent and unseen, thought otherwise.
Do you think the drought ends so easily?
This rain is mercy—but mercy is always brief.
Outside, the rain continued.
Three days. Three nights.
The downpour softened into a ceaseless drizzle, wrapping the world in gray mist.
Chassepot rifles could still function. Rifled arquebuses could not.
So Cheng Xu waited.
Trees were cut. Bamboo was split. Rain-boxes were crafted. Conical hats widened until soldiers looked like walking umbrellas.
By the third day, every arquebus was protected.
The rebels did not return.
Instead—
Xing Honglang arrived.
And with him, the real storm began to gather.