Li Daoxuan dragged a rattan chair into the corner of the Celestial Fertilizer store and collapsed into it without ceremony.
The chair immediately regretted every life decision that had led it here.
Creak—groan—squeak…
The sound wasn't subtle. It was the kind of desperate complaint normally heard from old beams in abandoned temples.
This was understandable.
Li Daoxuan's true weight was not something a humble piece of woven rattan had been psychologically prepared to bear. The chair had been designed for frail scholars and leisurely naps, not for an entity whose mass politely ignored human expectations.
The chair trembled.
It protested.
It endured.
Li Daoxuan, satisfied, leaned back further.
The chair gave up trying to argue.
Outside the shop, Wang Tang stood at the entrance, gripping a tin megaphone like a man who had read too many reformist pamphlets.
"Fertilizer for sale!" he bellowed.
"Come get your fertilizer!"
His voice echoed down the street.
"Used correctly, guaranteed to double next year's harvest! Winter's almost over—spring is coming! Miss this chance and you'll regret it all year long!"
The crowd stirred but did not advance.
Wang Tang took a breath and unleashed his final weapon.
"Buy fertilizer today and receive a free gift! Every customer gets a gift!"
That did it.
Villagers who had been pretending not to listen suddenly leaned forward.
"A gift?" someone called cautiously.
"What kind of gift?"
Wang Tang straightened his back, solemn as an imperial examiner.
"An invoice."
The street went silent.
"…What?"
Wang Tang explained patiently, "A written document proving your purchase. It records the price and quantity. Two copies—one for you, one for us."
The crowd exploded.
"What good is that?"
"Can you eat it?"
"Will it plow fields for us?"
"What nonsense is this?"
Wang Tang raised his voice, growing more earnest with every sentence.
"This document protects you! If there's a problem, you can demand a refund. And if everyone insists on invoices, merchants can no longer lie about their income and cheat the imperial court!"
The villagers stared at him like he had just proposed feeding paper to oxen.
"…Still useless."
Wang Tang fell silent.
From the corner, Dao Xuan Tianzun burst into laughter.
"Hahaha!"
"Wang Tang, you're too early. Far too early."
Wang Tang sighed, defeated. "Fine, fine. No invoice. Free gift changed to flour."
The word flour hit the street like thunder.
Eyes lit up.
Mouths swallowed.
Hands twitched.
And yet—no one stepped inside.
They remembered.
The Prince of Qin's residence.
The seizures.
The beatings.
Buying fertilizer now was not shopping—it was taking sides.
Just then, the answer arrived.
A junior steward from the Prince of Qin's household strode in, flanked by over a dozen retainers.
"Make way!" he shouted.
"Clear the street!"
The crowd scattered instantly, like birds startled by a thrown stone. People retreated behind walls, trees, doorways—anywhere that allowed them to watch without being seen.
In the blink of an eye, the street emptied.
Only the fertilizer store remained.
Li Daoxuan did not move.
Wang Tang stepped forward instead, positioning himself squarely at the entrance.
The steward swaggered up, chin raised.
"Shi Kefa's quite sensible," he sneered. "Sending more fertilizer to our Prince's residence, hm? You! Move it all!"
Wang Tang smiled gently.
"Steward, you only brought ten men. That won't be enough."
He gestured inside.
"Dozens of cartloads this time. Perhaps fetch more help?"
The steward froze.
Then his expression darkened.
This bastard… he's mocking me.
"The new manager?" the steward asked coldly.
"Just arrived," Wang Tang replied pleasantly. "Please take care of me."
"Spare me," the steward snapped. "Get lost before you get hurt."
Wang Tang chuckled.
"You dare strike people here," he said calmly, "because you believe the Emperor won't punish the Prince of Qin over something so small."
He leaned in slightly.
"But if you were beaten here—do you think the Emperor would punish a civilian official for that?"
The steward hesitated.
For exactly one breath.
Then pride won.
He lunged.
A punch flew toward Wang Tang's face.
Unfortunately for him, Wang Tang was a logistics soldier from Gaojia Village.
And logistics soldiers were still soldiers.
The punch looked slow.
Predictable.
Almost polite.
Wang Tang caught the arm, twisted, pivoted—and sent the steward spinning like a windmill before slamming him into the ground.
THUD.
The sound echoed.
The steward lay there, bones screaming, soul temporarily evacuated.
The retainers erupted.
"How dare you!"
"You're defying heaven!"
They surged forward.
From the back room, Flat Rabbit burst out, hand reaching instinctively for his sword—
Only to be stopped by Zheng Gouzi, who pressed his wrist down.
"Not yet," Zheng Gouzi muttered. "Kill later. Reason first."
Flat Rabbit clicked his tongue, withdrew his hand, clenched his fists—and charged.
A retainer swung at Wang Tang.
Flat Rabbit intercepted with a flying kick.
"Even the Prince of Qin's household has to obey reason!"
The steward roared from the ground, furious and humiliated.
"When have we ever used reason with people like you?! Fight!"
That shout sealed it.
From that moment on, anyone watching knew exactly who had lost the moral high ground.
With reason secured, the fertilizer store's side hit harder.
Zheng Gouzi grabbed a retainer, punched him in the gut—wham!—doubling him over, then drove a knee up into his chin.
Crack.
The man flew backward, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The militia soldiers poured out from the back room, matching numbers deliberately—one for one.
Equal numbers.
Unequal skill.
The street erupted with fists, feet, and screams.
One retainer took a brutal kick from Flat Rabbit, staggered backward—and collapsed right beside Li Daoxuan's chair.
He tried to push himself up.
From his rattan throne, Li Daoxuan casually clenched his fist and tapped the man's head.
Thwack.
Silicone padding softened nothing.
Steel beneath did the rest.
The retainer screamed and collapsed.
The rattan chair creaked again.
But this time, it sounded… satisfied.