This was Jiang Cheng's first time witnessing a statue of Dao Xuan Tianzun move.
He had heard countless people talk about it before—but hearing stories and seeing it with one's own eyes were two completely different things.
Although he had already joined the Dao Xuan Tianzun Daoist Sect, a tiny sliver of doubt had always lingered in his heart. Did Dao Xuan Tianzun truly manifest divine power in the mortal world?
Now, that doubt had nowhere left to hide.
The embroidered Dao Xuan Tianzun on his chest had not only moved—
It had spoken.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun has manifested!" Jiang Cheng burst into tears of joy, shouting hoarsely, "We're saved! We're saved! Everyone, listen carefully—hold on tightly to the nearest pillar!"
The merchant ship was small, with only ten crew members aboard. Panic erupted as everyone scrambled to grab onto something solid.
Then they saw it.
A colossal golden hand descended from the heavens, reaching straight into the raging Yellow River. It gently cradled the ship from below, steady and calm, before lifting the entire vessel into the air.
Jiang Cheng and the crew screamed in unison.
"Ahhh—!"
Excitement and terror collided, terror twisting into exhilaration.
The massive golden hand moved slowly at first.
Then faster.
And faster.
Before long, they were hurtling through the sky at nearly two hundred kilometers per hour.
Flying through wind and rain at such a speed was indescribable.
Jiang Cheng could only gape into the storm, roaring at the top of his lungs, "Whoa—whoa—whoa!"
Moments later, the Yongji Ancient Ferry Dock came into view.
The golden hand gently lowered the ship beside the dock and released it.
The stunned crew snapped back to their senses, rushing to secure ropes and leap onto the dock, tying the ship firmly to the mooring posts.
Jiang Cheng and the others followed, stumbling ashore.
The instant their feet touched solid ground, every ounce of tension drained from their bodies. Some collapsed outright, others sobbed uncontrollably.
Then, as one, they turned toward the sky and bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Dao Xuan Tianzun, for saving our lives!"
Li Daoxuan, however, had no time to enjoy gratitude.
He was drowning in work.
The larger his territory grew, the more places demanded his attention—and the more lives hung in the balance.
Outside the diorama box, a dense map filled with place names lay before him. He tapped one spot casually, then rapidly pressed the north, south, east, and west controls, sweeping his view across the land to check for danger and flooding.
He used to curse his limited field of vision.
Now, he felt the opposite problem—there was simply too much to see.
To hell with it.
He would save whoever he could.
Those he couldn't… could only blame fate.
At least he was doing his best.
His gaze shifted southward from Yongji Ancient Ferry Dock, tracing the banks of the Yellow River.
Then—
A small ferry crossing came into view.
Fenglingdu.
A famous place.
It was here that Guo Xiang first met Yang Guo, fell in love at first sight, and lost half a lifetime to longing.
Fenglingdu—cross once, miss a lifetime.
The crossing itself was narrow. As the Yellow River's water level rose, this section struggled to handle the flow. The surging current couldn't pass smoothly through the constricted channel, and water began backing up.
Li Daoxuan's expression darkened instantly.
Something was very wrong.
The Yellow River—
It was about to burst its banks.
"Damn it!"
Water had already begun spilling over the river's edge.
If this embankment failed, the flood would sweep straight through Fenglingdu.
Guo Xiang and Yang Guo—
No, wait.
It was the ordinary people of Fenglingdu who would be wiped out.
Li Daoxuan grabbed a washbasin and desperately scooped water from the Yellow River, dumping it away.
Useless.
Even shrunk two hundred times inside the diorama box, the Yellow River still spanned several meters. A washbasin—or even a pump—was laughably inadequate.
Reinforce the embankment!
The thought flashed through his mind.
He sprinted to his balcony, seized a modular wooden flowerpot made of individual slats, and dismantled it with practiced speed, scattering wooden boards across the floor.
Then he rushed back to the diorama box.
Carefully—urgently—he placed the wooden slats one by one against the weakest section of the riverbank.
At the same moment, the villagers of Fenglingdu were fleeing.
They could see it too—the river was about to break. Parents dragged children along, people hastily gathered what little valuables they could carry.
They could run.
Their belongings could be moved.
But their homes?
If the Yellow River burst through, the entire ferry town would vanish beneath the flood. Every house would be destroyed. They would be homeless overnight.
The villagers hesitated, hearts aching.
But they had no choice.
Then someone shouted—
"Look! Up in the sky!"
Everyone looked up.
What they saw became a memory they would carry for the rest of their lives.
A colossal golden hand descended from the heavens, gripping an enormous wooden block.
The block fell into place along the riverbank with a heavy thud, like a giant dam. The golden hand pressed it firmly into the earth.
One block wasn't enough.
Another descended.
Then another.
Massive wooden slabs fell one after another, forming a towering barrier along the vulnerable embankment—like a great wooden fence holding the Yellow River at bay.
The river stabilized.
Only thin gaps between the wooden slats remained.
The golden hand immediately returned, carrying a strange, soft, multicolored mud—beautiful, almost jewel-like—and pressed it into the gaps, sealing them completely.
The danger was gone.
The people of Fenglingdu stood frozen, forgetting even to cheer.
"A divine miracle…"
"That's Dao Xuan Tianzun casting a heavenly spell! I've heard of this in Puzhou City!"
"We're saved… our homes are saved!"
"Fenglingdu is saved!"
Li Daoxuan slumped back, panting.
"Damn it… disaster relief really isn't easy."
But there was no time to rest.
He immediately shifted his view again—Dragon Gate Ferry, Qichuan Ferry…
Across the land, tiny figures stared helplessly at the surging Yellow River. Equipment was dragged to higher ground. Boats along the banks rocked violently.
The entire world inside the diorama box seemed to tremble beneath the river's fury.
Li Daoxuan's heart sank.
"This is bad."
If the upper reaches were already like this, what about the middle and lower sections?
His fears were justified.
In the fifth year of Chongzhen, the Great Ming—having barely survived a catastrophic drought—was struck by massive flooding. The Yellow River burst its banks again and again. Soldiers, civilians, merchants—countless lives were lost.
The displaced wandered everywhere, begging for food.
With nowhere left to go, they gathered.
And rebelled.
A new round of chaos had begun.