Li Daoxuan truly wanted to see Luoyang.
But he wasn't in a hurry.
Jiang Cheng would need time to get there anyway. Each day, Li Daoxuan only needed to briefly switch his co-sensing to the cotton-threaded image of Dao Xuan Tianzun embroidered on Jiang Cheng's chest for a quick look. Once Jiang Cheng actually reached Luoyang, then Li Daoxuan could settle in for a proper, unhurried "tour."
A day later, Jiang Cheng finally caught a brief lull.
The wind weakened. The rain lightened. The Yellow River's surface calmed—just enough.
Seizing the opportunity, Jiang Cheng boarded a ferry at Fengling Crossing. He and his men hauled on the iron chains, inch by inch, pulling themselves across the river. After great effort, they finally reached the Tongguan Path on the south bank.
From there, they turned east and set out along the official road.
From Tongguan to Luoyang was more than four hundred li.
The journey was brutal.
Gales and torrential rain came and went without warning. Mud sucked at their feet. Carts bogged down. Men slipped, fell, and dragged themselves back up again.
Several times, Li Daoxuan checked in through co-sensing, only to see Jiang Cheng struggling forward through sheets of rain, soaked to the bone.
Li Daoxuan couldn't help sighing.
So this was how ancient merchants lived—risking life and fortune alike, every time they set out to earn a living.
After several days of hardship, the four-hundred-li journey finally neared its end.
Jiang Cheng wiped rain from his face and smiled weakly at his exhausted subordinates.
"We're almost there," he said hoarsely. "Just ahead is Mengjin Crossing. Luoyang is close now… Whew. I'm done in."
At that exact moment, Li Daoxuan co-sensed into the scene.
Hearing Jiang Cheng's words, a quiet excitement stirred in his heart.
Excellent. Finally, Luoyang.
When he used to play Romance of the Three Kingdoms, he loved nothing more than seizing Luoyang and "holding the emperor to command the lords." Now, seeing the real ancient capital with his own eyes—how could that not be satisfying?
His anticipation lasted less than five seconds.
A terrified shout rang out.
"Master! Look—look over there!"
Jiang Cheng snapped his head around.
So did Li Daoxuan.
The pointing finger aimed northward—toward the Yellow River dike at Mengjin Crossing.
In the very instant their eyes landed on it—
The dike broke.
With a deafening roar, the embankment split open. Yellow river water burst through the crack. At first, it seeped and sprayed, but in the blink of an eye, the breach widened.
Then the embankment collapsed entirely.
A vast section gave way, and the Yellow River surged out like a furious beast finally unleashed.
Jiang Cheng shouted, "Damn it!"
Li Daoxuan's pupils shrank.
!!!
Jiang Cheng's subordinates cried out in panic.
"This is bad!"
"We're finished!"
"Run!" Jiang Cheng reacted instantly. "Run to high ground! Now! Run!"
"What about the salt carts?!" someone shouted.
"Forget them!" Jiang Cheng roared. "Leave them! Run!"
They abandoned the carts without hesitation and sprinted for their lives toward the nearest rise.
Behind them, the Yellow River spilled across the plains outside Luoyang.
Screams erupted everywhere.
Common folk fled in blind terror, scattering like ants. The yellow waters chased them relentlessly—but how could human legs outrun a flood?
People slipped.
People fell.
People were swallowed whole.
Jiang Cheng and his group had been farther from the dike, buying them a sliver of time. Ahead stood a small hill—not very tall, but high enough.
Its name was High Slope.
Hundreds of people had already scrambled onto it.
Jiang Cheng and his men clawed their way upward, lungs burning, legs trembling.
From the summit, they turned back.
The floodwaters had already reached the place where the salt carts had been abandoned. In an instant, carts, sacks, and ropes vanished beneath the yellow torrent, erased as if they had never existed.
All the suffering of the journey from Gudu Ferry—gone in a heartbeat.
Yet the loss of salt was nothing compared to the sight below.
People—living people—were being overtaken, dragged under, one after another.
Some lucky ones reached the base of High Slope and struggled upward desperately. But those already on top dared not descend. They could only shout themselves hoarse:
"Faster!"
"Hurry up!"
"Climb! Climb!"
CRASH!
The flood surged halfway up the slope.
Those who had already reached the middle barely survived. Those who hadn't… were swept away.
Li Daoxuan watched through co-sensing, his chest tightening painfully.
But this place lay beyond his field of view.
He couldn't reach in.
He couldn't help.
He could only watch—and sigh.
Eventually, the chaos slowed.
The river no longer rushed forward in fury. Instead, it spread out, pooling across the plains, flowing sluggishly like a vast yellow sea.
Several hundred survivors stood crowded atop High Slope, surrounded on all sides by floodwater.
Straining their eyes, they saw other hills in the distance—east and west—each crowded with hundreds more people.
Small islands.
Islands in a sea of yellow mud.
They had escaped death—for now.
But new terror followed immediately.
No food.
No clean water.
No shelter.
Many had fled empty-handed. Cold rain continued to soak them. River winds cut through their clothes.
How long could anyone survive like this?
Jiang Cheng surveyed the surroundings and spoke quietly to his men.
"I'm afraid… we won't make it home this time. Even if we didn't drown, trapped here like this… we won't last more than a few days."
One subordinate murmured, "We still have some dried rations. Maybe we can hold on? The water should recede in a few days, right?"
Jiang Cheng shook his head.
"Hard to say. The Yellow River changes course often. This place could become a permanent riverbed. If that happens… we'll die here."
Silence fell.
"And even if the water does recede," Jiang Cheng continued, "the silt will be deadly."
Everyone knew it was true.
Thick Yellow River silt could trap a person's legs like a vise. Once stuck, escape was nearly impossible.
Despair spread.
Then—
The cotton-thread image of Dao Xuan Tianzun on Jiang Cheng's chest spoke:
"Hold on. Gao Family Village's rescue teams have already set out."
Jiang Cheng's heart exploded with joy.
He bowed instinctively—but Dao Xuan Tianzun said no more, falling silent once again.
It was enough.
Hope ignited like a firebrand.
Jiang Cheng leapt to his feet and shouted to the stranded crowd:
"Everyone, gather together! Huddle close! Share warmth! If you have anything that can block the rain, hold it up and share it! Save your strength!"
The crowd stared back with hollow eyes.
"Sir," someone said weakly, "who would come to save people like us? The government wouldn't care if we live or die."
"Exactly," another muttered. "We're just common folk."
Jiang Cheng raised his voice, fierce and unwavering.
"Don't be afraid! Rescue will come! There is an Immortal called Dao Xuan Tianzun—he watches over the common people! He will come to save everyone!"
He spread his arms wide.
"Come! Gather together! Hold on! I'll tell you stories—stories of Dao Xuan Tianzun!"