Xing Honglang arrived at Pingyang Prefecture with another two thousand troops in tow.
With her arrival, Gao Family Village's forces in the region swelled to a respectable four thousand four hundred. Not enough to swallow the rebel horde outright—but more than enough to make people start believing unpleasant things could actually be solved.
Unfortunately, belief did not make the rain stop.
Xing Honglang's unit possessed only two hundred Chassepot rifles, fewer even than Cheng Xu's men. Combined, their modern rifles barely reached seven hundred. The rest were rifle-musket infantry, grenadiers, and a stubborn minority who still trusted steel more than powder.
Standing beneath the unrelenting rain, Xing Honglang shook her head.
"I never expected Shanxi to rain like this," she said frankly. "On the road, it came down all at once. I had to slow the march and skirt rebel territory the whole way. If we'd collided head-on in that weather…"
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
Bai Mao, smiling, pulled out a wide bamboo hat and placed it on his head. Then he produced a small bamboo casing and snapped it neatly over his rifle's firing mechanism.
"What about this?" he asked. "Think it's useful?"
Xing Honglang's eyes lit up.
"Oh? That's clever. The lock stays dry."
"The Dao Xuan Tianzun taught us," Bai Mao said casually.
That was all it took.
Xing Honglang nodded decisively. "Then make more. As many as possible."
Orders were immediately sent to Dou Wenda. Artisans were mobilized. Bamboo was split. Before the day ended, rain-hats and rifle covers were already being produced in batches.
While humans busied themselves with war preparations, Li Daoxuan faced a far less glamorous problem.
Dredging.
He had begun at the confluence of the Yellow River and the Fen River, steadily working upstream. At first, the work had been simple—almost soothing. Dig here, widen there, guide the flow, move on.
Then one day, he lifted his shovel—
And stopped.
Ahead, on the north bank of the Fen River, a city appeared.
Jiangzhou.
Later generations would call it Jishan County, but for now, it was very much alive—walls pressed tight against the river, ten or twenty thousand people living their ordinary lives in close proximity to the water.
Fishing boats dotted the river. Nets were cast. Skiffs slipped between currents.
If Li Daoxuan plunged a shovel down here without warning, the result would be predictable.
Panic. Screams. People fleeing from something they could neither see nor comprehend.
Even worse—once dredging began, the river would turn muddy for days. Fish would vanish. Fishermen would lose their livelihoods overnight.
A god could reshape rivers.
But a god who didn't think ahead only created new disasters.
Li Daoxuan sighed and set his tiny shovel aside.
His awareness snapped back to Dragon Gate Ferry, surging into the Titanic form of Dao Xuan Tianzun.
Construction at the ferry had stalled. Rain soaked everything. Blue Hats supervised Yellow Hats who now had nothing to supervise except the weather.
Shi Jian was wandering aimlessly, bored out of his mind.
The moment Dao Xuan Tianzun stirred, Shi Jian felt it and hurried over.
"Shi Jian," Dao Xuan Tianzun commanded, "leave a deputy here. Take a small, fast unit and go to Jiangzhou immediately."
Shi Jian blinked, surprised—but did not question it.
"As you command."
Dao Xuan Tianzun withdrew from the massive form and co-sensed directly into the cotton-thread embroidery on Shi Jian's chest.
A Cotton Thread Dao Xuan Tianzun.
Light. Discreet. Unthreatening.
Shi Jian took ten men and rode hard along the north bank of the Fen River, rain lashing their faces.
Midway, Dao Xuan Tianzun finally explained the plan.
Shi Jian listened—and frowned slightly.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun… Jiangzhou has never seen you. The people don't know of your existence. If a shovel the size of a mountain appears in their river, they'll think the apocalypse has arrived."
"I know," Li Daoxuan replied calmly. "That's why you're going."
Shi Jian hesitated. "And how should I persuade them?"
"You were once a scout," Dao Xuan Tianzun said. "Use your judgment."
That was both praise and pressure.
Shi Jian straightened. "I will not disappoint."
After dozens of li, Jiangzhou appeared through the rain.
The city gates were shut tight. Archers stood beneath shelters on the walls. The moment Shi Jian's group appeared, bows were drawn.
"Who goes there?!"
Shi Jian laughed.
"Shi Jian, squad commander under Shaanxi Commander-in-Chief Wang Cheng'en. Stationed at Dragon Gate Ferry. You've heard of me."
The name traveled upward.
Soon, the prefect appeared atop the wall.
Qin Changqing.
Rat-like eyes. Thin face. A man whose expression suggested he had never fully trusted anyone—and had often been right.
"I am Qin Changqing, Prefect of Jiangzhou," he called. "What brings Commander Shi here?"
Shi Jian smiled politely.
"Bandits attacked Dragon Gate Ferry days ago. I repelled them. I worry they may turn toward Jiangzhou next, so I came to assess the situation."
Qin Changqing almost dismissed him outright.
Then he reconsidered.
Bandits hadn't come yet. That didn't mean they wouldn't. And local militia alone wouldn't hold if they did.
This military man wanted a relationship.
That could be useful.
Qin Changqing's expression softened instantly.
"This official has long heard of Commander Shi's valor," he said warmly. "A young general of great promise."
He turned and barked, "Open the gates!"
Moments later, Jiangzhou welcomed Shi Jian inside.
As attendants took the horses, Qin Changqing walked beside him, sighing theatrically.
"The bandits north of here are relentless. Puxian besieged. Daning in chaos. This official truly lies awake at night with worry."
Shi Jian listened.
And smiled to himself.
The door was open.
Now it was just a matter of guiding where it led.