A torrent of information flooded into Li Daoxuan's mind.
He had co-sensed into the Catholic church on Sugar Mill Street—the first Catholic church in Xi'an.
It had been established in 1625, when the Ming official Wang Zheng invited the missionary Jin Nige to purchase land and build it. Officially, it was called the Church of the Heavenly Mother.
The name had never changed.
Many transmigrators before him had relied on Western missionaries as allies—using them as pipelines for firearms, clocks, astronomy, geometry, and other scraps of Renaissance knowledge.
Li Daoxuan didn't need that.
If he wanted technology, he could pull full technical documentation straight out of the world beyond the box—blueprints, formulas, manufacturing processes—clean, complete, and infinitely scalable.
Missionaries were unnecessary.
But Wang Zheng?
Wang Zheng was different.
Wang Zheng was one of the late Ming's greatest scientific minds, known alongside Xu Guangqi as "Southern Xu and Northern Wang."
In his youth, he studied hydraulics, wind power, and heavy machinery, compiling his findings into New Treatises on Various Instruments with Diagrams. Later, he collaborated with the Swiss missionary Nicolas Trigault to translate Illustrations of Wonderful Machines of the Far West, introducing statics, centers of gravity, buoyancy, specific gravity, and compound machines to China.
This man was not merely curious.
He was dangerously competent.
If I can pull him over, Li Daoxuan thought, the entire technological acceleration of the Ming can skip decades.
At that moment, Jin Nige spoke hesitantly.
"Mr. Wang… are you suggesting that Catholicism should spread itself using the same methods as the Dao Xuan Tianzun sect?"
Wang Zheng nodded slowly.
"Comic books. Grain relief. Public performances dramatizing divine legends," he said. "These methods are efficient. Extremely so."
"More importantly," he added, "Western scientific knowledge must be spread alongside faith. Only then will the people truly gain understanding."
Jin Nige's face tightened with embarrassment.
"I would like to," he admitted, "but… our funds are insufficient."
Wang Zheng sighed.
"Funds," he said softly. "Then there is nothing to be done."
He turned his gaze toward the clay statue of Dao Xuan Tianzun.
"That unorthodox sect," he continued, "has astonishing resources. They flood Xi'an with books, sell stories while giving away grain. Their influence expands faster than wildfire."
"Catholicism cannot compete," he concluded. "Not at all."
Jin Nige asked uneasily, "Such a sect spreads openly in Xi'an… and the Emperor remains unaware?"
Wang Zheng shook his head.
"Memorials have surely reached the throne. But His Majesty will not read them closely."
"The empire is vast. Strange sects rise and fall everywhere. As long as no rebellion occurs—no White Lotus-style disaster—the court ignores them."
"Even if rebellion does occur," Wang Zheng said bitterly, "the Emperor glances once, then leaves it to the local officials."
A trace of worry crossed his face.
"I only hope this sect harbors no ill intentions."
Li Daoxuan laughed silently.
Ill intentions?
I have ambitions large enough to frighten history itself.
Jin Nige stood and reached for the statue.
"Then this thing should be discarded."
Wang Zheng stopped him.
"Do not be careless," he said. "One may doubt gods, but one must show respect."
"I will take it home."
Thus, Li Daoxuan followed Wang Zheng into a carriage.
The wheels rattled.
The Wang family courtyard came into view.
And Li Daoxuan nearly burst out laughing.
The courtyard was crowded with statues:
Buddha.
Guanyin.
The Grand Pure One.
The Primordial Celestial Worthy.
Ksitigarbha.
Erlang Shen.
Guan Yu.
Jesus.
The Holy Mother.
Buddhism. Daoism. Catholicism. Folk belief.
Everything.
Now, Dao Xuan Tianzun joined the pile.
Wang Zheng bowed solemnly.
"May all gods and Buddhas bless the Great Ming," he prayed, "grant favorable weather, and secure peace for the realm."
Li Daoxuan sighed.
"Believe in one god and you're devout," he muttered.
"Believe in a hundred, and suddenly they need you."
Wang Zheng understands this logic perfectly.
Wang Zheng lit incense, bowed twice, and turned to leave.
Then—
The clay statue spoke.
"Wang Zheng."
Cracks spread across its surface.
Mud and sand fell away as a deep, echoing voice reverberated through the room, like a mountain demon awakening beneath the earth.
"Wang Zheng."
Wang Zheng jumped in terror.
"Who?! Who speaks?!"
He scanned the statues wildly. The Dao Xuan Tianzun statue had been shoved into a corner, half-hidden behind a Maitreya Buddha.
Li Daoxuan continued.
"Your desire to spread science is admirable…"
"…but you have chosen the wrong allies."
Wang Zheng froze.
"What…?"
"Catholicism," the voice said evenly, "harbors its own intentions."
"You should seek the Dao Xuan Tianzun Sect."
Wang Zheng's pupils contracted.
He turned.
The clay statue's mouth collapsed, half its face crumbling to the floor.
Silence.
For a long time, Wang Zheng did not move.
He paced the room again and again.
After half an hour, he finally picked up the shattered statue, trying—and failing—to reattach the broken face.
At last, he clenched his teeth.
He rushed out.
At the bookstore, he slammed his palm on the counter.
"Give me a complete set of Legend of Dao Xuan Tianzun Exterminating Demons."
The shopkeeper hesitated. "Sir… these are mostly bought by common folk."
"Less talk," Wang Zheng snapped. "More books."
Seven volumes were handed over.
"They're not finished," the shopkeeper added. "It only reaches the Heavenly Lord descending in a celestial vehicle…"
Wang Zheng opened the book.
His eyes locked onto the illustrations.
"…Celestial vehicle?"
His breath caught.
"This…" he murmured, fingers trembling.
"…this is clearly science."