Li Daoxuan's colossal hand closed around Qin Changqing and lifted him six or seven meters into the air.
As the divine body moved, Li Daoxuan felt a flicker of satisfaction.
This statue was good.
The metal skeleton inside gave it strength and structure—none of that soft, floppy nonsense. It responded smoothly, powerfully, like a properly engineered machine wearing a god's face.
Not bad, Li Daoxuan thought. I could get used to this.
He didn't crush Qin Changqing outright. That would have been too easy.
Instead, he carefully adjusted the force—enough pressure to make Qin Changqing feel as if his bones were being squeezed into a neat little bundle, but not enough to actually kill him.
Qin Changqing couldn't scream.
Couldn't speak.
Couldn't even beg properly.
He could only flail uselessly in midair, eyes bulging, legs kicking at nothing.
Below him, Jiangzhou erupted.
Cheers. Shouts. Cries. Laughter mixed with tears.
How could they not be excited? A god they had worshipped their entire lives had finally shown up in person—and the first thing he did was grab the magistrate like a misbehaving chicken.
Li Daoxuan looked down and asked calmly,
"Tell me… is Qin Changqing a good official?"
The crowd froze.
For a brief, awkward moment, silence fell.
Ordinarily, this was the kind of question one answered automatically.
Of course he's good.
Of course we're grateful.
Of course everything is fine.
But now?
Now the question was being asked by Jiwang himself.
A man in the crowd clenched his fists and shouted, "No! He's a vile official!"
That was all it took.
"He takes bribes from the rich and tramples the poor!"
"Steward Zhou stole Old Yang's granddaughter! When Old Yang went to the yamen, this dog of a magistrate had him tortured to death!"
"He helped Steward Li seize Zheng family land!"
Grievances poured out like floodwater bursting through a broken dike.
Years of resentment—swallowed, endured, forced down—now found a mouth.
Li Daoxuan listened patiently.
Not a single person spoke in Qin Changqing's defense.
Not even a token lie.
That told him everything.
He nodded slowly.
"Very well," Jiwang said. "Whether he lives or dies… is for you to decide."
He lowered Qin Changqing directly into the center of the crowd.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
"Ptooey!"
A glob of spit landed squarely on Qin Changqing's face.
A stone followed.
Thunk.
It bounced off his head and struck another villager.
"Ow!" the villager shouted. "Stop throwing stones! You're hitting our own! Use your fists!"
"Oh, right!"
Fists came down.
Feet followed.
The crowd surged like a living wave.
People on the outskirts shouted in panic, "Let me in! I haven't hit him yet!"
"Take turns! Don't hog him!"
All restraint vanished.
For once in their lives, the common folk felt something they had never known before—
Backing.
With an eight-meter-tall god watching, fear lost its grip.
By the time Qin Changqing could no longer be recognized as human, the beating still hadn't stopped.
Only when Li Daoxuan raised his hand did the crowd finally calm.
They backed away, kneeling again in reverent silence.
"Thank you, Jiwang!"
"Great benevolence!"
Li Daoxuan surveyed the scene.
Satisfied.
Then he spoke again, voice deep and echoing:
"The rain… has fallen. This year, you may plant your crops."
The crowd rejoiced.
"Jiwang protects us!"
"A bountiful harvest!"
Li Daoxuan continued, "But harvest alone… is not enough. You need roads. You need rivers."
The people hesitated.
That… sounded reasonable. But also unexpected.
"Jiwang governs agriculture," Li Daoxuan explained evenly. "Other matters fall outside my domain. Therefore—"
He paused, deliberately.
"I have invited a friend."
"A friend?"
"His name is Dao Xuan Tianzun."
The people didn't know who that was.
But Jiwang had said it.
That was enough.
"Thank you, Jiwang!"
Li Daoxuan nodded. "Dao Xuan Tianzun will dredge your river and restore navigation. You will cooperate fully."
"As you command!"
Jiwang rose into the sky, disappearing into low clouds.
Moments later—
The clouds parted again.
This time, a much smaller figure descended.
Human-sized.
Soft.
It landed with a gentle plop.
The crowd stared as the figure bent, twisted, folded at impossible angles—then bounced back upright like rubber.
The silicone Dao Xuan Tianzun shook his arms and legs cheerfully.
"Heh heh," he laughed. "Jiwang sent me to look after you."
The crowd blinked.
Then bowed.
"Many thanks, Heavenly—ah—Tianzun!"
Dao Xuan Tianzun pointed at the Fen River, now barely more than a muddy trench.
"I'll widen and deepen this river. Fishermen—pull your boats ashore first. I don't want to accidentally wreck them."
The people hesitated.
But remembering that entrance from the sky, they obeyed.
Soon, the river lay empty.
Dao Xuan Tianzun climbed the southern wall, raised both hands, and said cheerfully:
"Watch closely, everyone."